tN 


LIBRARY 

OHIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORJffld 
DAVIS 


SANCTUS    SPIRITUS 
AND     COMPANY 

EDWARD    A.    STEINER 


SANCTUS   SPIRITUS 
AND  COMPANY 

BY 

EDWARD  A.  STEINER 

Author  of  "  The  Immigrant  Tide,"  "On  the  Trail  of  the 
Immigrant,"  "  Against  the  Current,"  etc.,  etc. 


NEW  >taJr  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 

LIBRARY 

OF  CALIFOBSOEB 
PAVIS 


COPYRIGH 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OP  AMERICA 


THIS  BOOK  IS  AFFECTIONATELY 
DEDICATED  TO 

A.  A.   HYDE 

WHO  IN  THE    MOUNTAINS 

AND  ON  THE   PLAINS 
IN  BUSINESS  AND   PRIVATE  LIFE 

WALKS  WITH 
SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

tAPTER 

I  ON  THE  ESPLANADE 

II  YANEK  ARRIVES 

III  ROSEMARY  AND  FEATHER  BEDS 

IV  THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN 
V  PLUM   BRANDY 

VI  LOVE  ONE!       .... 

VII  THE  SCHOOLMASTER 

VIII  THE  BEETERS  .... 

IX  THE  FIRST  "  SCHKANDAL  "  . 

X  THE  TRIAL      .... 

XI  VAVRA'S  BUTCHER  SHOP 

XII  SUSANKA 

XIII  WHEN  THE  CAT  SNEEZED 

XIV  THE  CIRCUMCISION 
XV  SWEET  STRYCHNINE 

XVI  THE  RIOT 

XVII  MATER  DOLOROSA   . 

XVIII  THE  GOVERNMENT  STRIKES  . 

XIX  WHEN  THE  SAW  SINGS  . 

XX  THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE  . 

XXI  THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE     . 

XXII  SPIRITUS   MORTUUS 

XXIII  SANCTI  EXITI  .... 

XXIV  THE  HARVEST  HOME      . 
XXV  THE  REVEREND  JOHN  HRUBY 

vii 


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H5 
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2IO 
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viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XXVI  PRONOUNCING  PRZEMYSL 

XXVII  STEVE  BURLY 

XXVIII  IDOLS  OF  CLAY        .... 

XXIX  THE  HATERS 

XXX  SONYA  GOES  HOME  .... 

XXXI  THE  ARMISTICE       .... 

XXXII  SANCTUS  SPITITUS  AND  COMPANY 


PAGE 
26l 
272 
283 
289 
297 
304 
313 


SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 


SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND 
COMPANY 

CHAPTER  ONE:  ON  THE  ESPLANADE 

"OH ALL  two  men  walk  together  unless  they  be 
1^  agreed?"  But,  oh  wise  prophet  of  Israel,  how 
about  three  men  who,  at  a  certain  hour  each  day  have 
walked  together  along  the  Esplanade,  unless  they  were 
in  the  Bashanyitza  pretending  to  shoot  pheasants,  or  in 
Poestyan  taking  their  exercise  after  the  baths,  or  were 
sitting  in  the  Casino  playing  Clabriash;  and  who  never 
agreed  upon  anything,  except  that  their  rheumatism 
wasn't  better,  and  that  the  times  were  growing  worse 
— matters  upon  which  most  men  agree  when  they  are 
past  middle  age,  and  are  walking  toward  the  sunset. 

The  Esplanade  where  they  walked,  had  little  in  com 
mon  with  the  shaded  avenues  in  the  great  cities  of  the 
old  world,  with  their  brilliant  shops  on  either  side,  elegant 
equipages,  beautiful  ladies  and  flirting  cavaliers.  Unlike 
those  wonderful  boulevards  which  led  from  nowhere  to 
nowhere  and  back  again,  the  Esplanade  where  our  three 
men  walked,  boasted  only  four  rows  of  stunted  acacia 
trees,  two  on  each  side  of  the  dusty,  rutty  roadway,  and 
a  few  wooden  benches,  upon  which  the  lovers  of  many 
generations  had  carved  their  entwined  initials,  while 
Cupid  was  carving  with  his  dart. 

On  one  side  were  three  plots  of  ground,  separated 
from  each  other  by  high,  spiked,  iron  fences.  There, 
Roman  Catholics,  Protestants  and  Jews  buried  their 

11 


12        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

dead,  when  living  and  loving  and  esplanading  were  over 
and  done.  On  the  other  side,  a  low  chain  of  the 
Carpathian  mountains  rose  above  a  faded,  dusty  picture 
which  scarcely  any  one  ever  saw;  for  it  had  been  there 
always;  that  was  the  Esplanade. 

It  could  not  have  been  either  Saturday  or  Sunday 
when  the  three  men  walked  together  there;  for  on 
Saturday,  Moritz  Redlich,  the  distiller  of  the  famous 
Hungarian  slivovitz  went  to  the  synagogue,  and  on  Sun 
day,  the  Reverend  Father  Anton  Kalman  stood  before 
the  altar  where  he  had  officiated  since  the  tonsure  had 
been  applied  to  his  head.  On  the  same  day  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky  went  to  his  church  and  stood  up  before  the 
Lord  in  the  full  consciousness  of  the  Divine  sovereignty 
and  of  his  own;  for  he  was  a  Calvinist,  and  subscribed 
to  the  Helvetian  confession  of  faith. 

As  I  have  said,  the  three  men  did  not  agree  upon 
anything  except  their  rheumatism  and  the  degenerate 
times,  but  these  subjects  are  big,  and  were  especially  so 
to  those  three,  as  they  were  indeed  the  survivors  of  a 
good  time  when  in  that  corner  of  the  wide  world,  Jew 
and  Gentile,  Catholic  and  Protestant,  Slav,  German  and 
Magyar  had  lived  together  amicably,  undisturbed  by  the 
religious  and  nationalistic  struggles  which  were  convuls 
ing  the  people  of  that  unfortunate,  Austro-Hungarian 
monarchy  of  which  their  village  was  a  part.  They  were 
the  survivors  of  a  time  when  educated  men  talked  Latin 
together,  because  they  could  not  agree  upon  any  one  of 
the  current  tongues.  Indeed  when  the  three  met  each 
other  it  was  with  fc  Servus,  Amice  "  that  they  sealed  their 
handshake,  and  not  with  the  Magyar  "Ala  Szolgayo" 
then  becoming  current  and  almost  mandatory. 

So  they  had  met  on  a  certain  Wednesday  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  in  time  to  walk  out  to  the  railroad 
to  see  the  two  trains  come  in  and  have  a  glimpse  of  the 


ON  THE  ESPLANADE  13 

Bashanyitsa;  to  complain  because  the  trains  were  fright 
ening  the  birds  away  and  carrying  the  peasants  to 
America,  thus  making  wages  high  and  morals  low.  They 
argued  about  sugar  beets  versus  potatoes,  Magyars  versus 
Slovaks,  Gendarmes  versus  Pandures,  and  sulphur  baths 
versus  Hunyadi  water  for  rheumatism. 

The  Reverend  Father  Anton  Kalman,  tall,  thin  and 
not  too  saintly  to  be  human,  was  as  near  an  ascetic  as 
one  could  be  in  a  country  where  wine  was  good,  women 
handsome,  and  meat  plentiful.  Robed  in  his  satin  sutan, 
he  frequently  drew  out  of  its  folds  his  snuff  tobacco 
box.  Its  lid  bore  a  picture  of  the  Christ  with  the  bleed 
ing  heart,  and  he  never  offered  that  box  to  Moritz 
Redlich,  the  gnarled,  almost  humpbacked,  bronchial  old 
Jew,  whom  he  had  known  since  they  were  boys  together, 
and  loved  as  if  he  were  his  own  brother.  For  him  he 
had  another  box,  adorned  with  the  picture  of  a  beautiful 
young  woman,  of  that  mythological  period  when  dress 
was  not  used  to  suggest  what  it  affected  to  conceal. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  did  not  use  snuff;  he  smoked  a 
long  stemmed,  porcelain  pipe,  known  as  a  Dresdenska, 
imported  from  Germany.  It  was  the  apple  of  his  eye 
and  of  his  nose  too,  for  it  was  an  article  of  his  religious 
faith  that  his  pipe  must  be  as  sweet  and  clean  as  he  knew 
his  life  was.  He  wore  leather  breeches  which,  together 
with  the  satin  sutan  of  His  Reverence,  and  the  persistent 
cough  of  the  Jew,  made  their  walk  so  audible  that  even 
in  the  dark,  their  fellow  promenaders  in  the  Esplanade 
would  say :  "  There  go  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company," 
as  they  were  known  collectively,  in  this  town  of  Hraszova 
in  the  district  of  Nyitra  in  the  country  of  Hungary,  way 
up  in  the  north,  where  the  Slovaks  were  in  the  majority, 
where  the  Magyars  were  the  governing  minority,  and 
where  the  Jews  were  supposed  to  rule  by  virtue  of  their 
superior  wits  and  their  wealth. 


14        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company  had  good  reason  that 
Wednesday  to  agree  that  the  times  were  growing  worse, 
although  for  each  of  them  in  a  different  way.  Father 
Kalman  had  just  lost  his  Helenka.  How  should  a  priest, 
and  an  old  priest  at  that,  know  when  Helenkas  be 
came  Helens?  She  had  always  been  Helenka,  ever  since 
his  sister's  death,  and  he  would  not  let  the  little  thing 
be  taken  to  an  orphan  asylum.  So  she  stayed  at  the 
parsonage  with  an  old  crabbed  housekeeper  to  scold  her; 
but  he  made  up  for  it  by  cuddling  and  spoiling  her. 
"  Anyway,  it  was  better  for  her  than  being  with  a  dozen 
hooded  and  starched  Sisters/'  he  said  and  he  was  right 
about  it.  He  could  be  as  good  a  father  as  the  Sisters 
could  be  mothers.  Suddenly  he  realized  that  his  niece 
was  no  more  Helenka  and  that  was  one  reason  the  world 
was  growing  worse.  Of  course  it  was  through  the 
young  curate  that  it  dawned  upon  him  that  Helenka  had 
become  Helen,  and  he  had  just  returned  from  Trnava, 
where  he  had  left  her  with  the  Sisters.  The  curate 
was  of  the  new  school,  with  more  faith  in  Hungary 
and  love  for  the  Hungarians  than  for  the  souls  of  men 
and  the  Kingdom  of  God.  His  first  article  of  faith  was, 
that  the  Magyar  language  must  be  spoken  wherever  the 
Hungarian  flag  waved,  and  that  all  other  current  tongues 
must  be  silenced,  and  silenced  forever.  He  hated  the 
Slovaks,  sniffed  disgustedly  when  one  of  the  sheepskin- 
coated  peasants  came  near  him,  and  used  more  incense 
in  one  day  than  the  priest  ever  had  used  in  a  month.  He 
not  only  said  mass  in  a  foreign  tongue,  which  of  course 
was  proper;  he  also  preached  in  Magyar,  and  not  more 
than  a  dozen  people  could  understand  what  he  said,  which 
was  just  as  well,  for  he  said  little  or  nothing  about  the 
way  to  Heaven,  and  much  about  Magyar  Orszag,  the 
kingdom  of  Hungary,  and  the  sin  of  calling  their  King 
the  Emperor;  for  the  Emperor  was  an  Austrian  and  the 


ON  THE  ESPLANADE  15 

King  was  an  Hungarian,  though  they  were  one  person,  a 
duality  as  difficult  to  explain  to  the  lay  mind  as  the 
mystery  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  The  only  other  sin  he 
condemned  as  eloquently  was  the  sin  of  unchastity.  He 
had  his  good  points,  the  new  curate,  the  Reverend  Imre 
Baczko;  he  was  a  forceful  preacher,  and  having  been 
born  a  Slovak  and  become  Magyarized,  he  was  a  more 
than  zealous  patriot.  The  young  Magyar  officials  with 
their  wives  and  sweethearts  began  coming  to  church,  a 
duty  they  had  neglected  under  the  somewhat  prosaic  but 
faithful  ministry  of  their  old  priest. 

The  curate  was  good-looking,  which  was  not  always 
an  asset  in  his  holy  calling,  and  some  of  the  knowing 
ones  wondered  how  he  could  escape  the  snare  of  the 
devil  in  that  place,  where  the  mixture  of  Slav  and 
Magyar,  German,  Jewish  and  Gypsy  blood,  had  created 
a  ravishingly  beautiful  feminine  type,  and  among  both, 
men  and  women,  a  disregard  for  one  of  the  ten  com 
mandments  upon  whose  trespass  The  Church  has  laid 
severest  punishment.  It  was  well  for  him  that  his 
superior  had  not  only  kept  his  vows  inviolate,  but  at 
the  same  time  knew  the  temptations  of  the  flesh  so  well, 
that  his  judgment  was  always  charitable  and  his  correc 
tions  tempered  by  grace  and  mercy. 

It  was  the  shrewd  Jew  who,  when  he  heard  how 
violently  the  new  curate  was  preaching  against  the  sin 
of  unchastity,  suggested  that  the  holy  man  might  need 
watching.  "  Anton,"  he  said,  for  he  called  the  priest 
by  his  first  name  inside  the  circle  of  Sanctus  Spiritus 
and  Company,  "  a  man  always  preaches  hardest  against 
his  own  besetting  sin  until  the  sin  overtakes  him;  then 
he  puts  on  the  soft  pedal,"  and  alas!  the  time  came 
when  the  curate  touched  upon  that  particular  sin  very 
lightly. 

Moritz  Redlich,  who  was  the  Spiritus  of  the  rare  group 


16        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

walking  along  the  Esplanade,  had  earned  his  nickname 
because  he  was  the  distiller  of  excellent  plum  brandy. 
However,  he  deserved  the  title  for  other  reasons.  In 
deed,  that  little,  gnarled,  bronchial  Jew  was  more  Spiritus 
than  Corpus.  He  inherited  from  his  race  a  keen,  spirit 
ual  discernment,  which  never  degenerated  into  mere 
Jewish  shrewdness,  and,  being  able  to  see  what  most 
people  did  not  or  could  not,  he  began  bearing  the  burdens 
of  others  while  he  was  yet  a  mere  boy.  Family  burdens 
first;  for  he  was  the  oldest  of  five  children,  and  just  past 
his  thirteenth  birthday  and  received  into  the  full  member 
ship  of  the  synagogue  when  his  father  died.  As  soon 
as  the  week  of  mourning  was  over  and  he  had  risen  from 
the  earthen  floor  and  shaken  off  the  sackcloth  and  ashes, 
he  went  out  into  the  villages  and  bought  plums  as  his 
father  had  bought  them,  and  made  just  as  good  slivovitz, 
and  left  it  just  as  unadulterated,  and  sold  it  in  the  same 
earthen  jugs  and  made  the  same  modest  profit.  The 
four  younger  children,  three  boys  and  one  girl,  never 
missed  their  father,  except  as  they  were  held  less  strictly 
to  the  daily  religious  observances,  which  did  not  make 
them  sad.  In  fact  Moritz  began  spoiling  them,  by  indulg 
ing  "  the  poor  orphans."  He  never  came  home  from  his 
frequent  journeys  without  some  present  which  he  had 
bought  by  denying  himself  necessities. 

The  mother,  a  very  sweet  and  pious  woman,  he  adored 
as  he  would  have  a  saint,  had  he  been  a  Roman  Catholic ; 
and  she  rested  herself  upon  him  as  if  he  were  a  man, 
not  realizing  that  his  burdens  were  too  heavy  for  his 
years.  He  helped  her  through  her  widowhood  so  that 
she  scarcely  missed  the  strong  arm  of  her  husband,  and 
she  died,  leaning  upon  him,  content  to  know  that  the 
business  was  safe,  as  were  the  children.  The  boys  had 
to  be  educated  and  the  girl  married,  after  a  good  dowry 
was  provided. 


ON  THE  ESPLANADE  IT 

As  the  mother  had  learned  to  depend  upon  Moritz, 
so  had  her  children,  and  so  had  the  poor  Jews  of 
Hraszova.  When  the  poor  Christians  discovered  his 
capacity  for  burden  bearing  they  did  the  same  thing, 
and  when  the  president  of  the  synagogue  died,  the  honor 
and  burden  became  his;  when  the  boys  developed  into 
"  ne'er-do-weels  "  and  were  expelled  one  by  one  from 
the  Gymnasium  in  Nyitra,  he  sent  them  to  America,  and 
set  them  up  in  business;  and  when  they  failed,  they 
quite  naturally  expected  him  to  reestablish  them.  But 
he  had  married  and  had  burdens  of  his  own. 

He  was  early  besieged  by  marriage  brokers,  for  he 
was  a  desirable  match,  the  most  desirable  in  the  whole 
district,  was  rated  as  being  worth  a  dowry  of  some  ten 
thousand  florins,  and  might  have  commanded  twice 
as  much,  had  he  been  merely  a  shrewd  Jew;  but  he  chose 
to  marry  a  girl  from  a  pious  family,  whose  only  asset 
was  her  father's  Talmudic  learning  and  spotless  reputa 
tion.  Three  children  were  born  to  them,  and  then  his 
wife  faded  away,  her  life  blighted  by  consumption,  a 
by-product  of  her  father's  sedentary  habits  and  his  piety. 
Moritz'  friends  urged  him  to  marry  again  on  account  of 
the  children.  He  considered  the  matter  carefully,  and 
decided  to  take  their  advice,  and  that  was  one  of  the 
many  reasons  for  his  agreeing  with  the  other  members 
of  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company,  that  the  times  were 
growing  worse,  as  they  walked  along  the  Esplanade 
toward  the  railroad  station. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky,  strong,  upstanding  Calvinist, 
owner  of  a  thousand  acres  of  land,  a  widower,  father  of 
two  beautiful  daughters,  had  only  one  grievance  against 
the  times,  and  the  root  of  it  was  beets,  sugar  beets,  which 
made  of  agriculture  a  business  and  not  a  gentleman's 
pastime,  causing  the  peasants  to  sell  their  small  holdings 
to  the  Sugar  Trust,  go  to  America,  and  come  back  from 


18        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

there  with  strange  notions  of  eating  meat  three  times  a 
day  instead  of  twice  a  month,  getting  drunk  quicker, 
staying  drunk  longer,  making  wages  high  and  morals  low. 
These  were  the  only  reasons  that  the  world  was  growing 
worse  for  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky. 

He  had  good  cause  to  agree  with  his  confreres  upon 
the  sad  state  of  the  times,  for  as  they  were  walking  along, 
his  leather  breeches  saying  swash,  the  priest's  satin  sutan 
saying  swish,  and  Moritz  Redlich  coughing  at  every  step 
— they  heard  above  the  noise  they  were  making,  the 
marching  of  men  and  women,  and  turning,  saw  a  cloud 
of  dust  filling  the  Esplanade,  while  out  of  it  rose  a 
plaintive  chorus,  the  women  leading  and  the  men  a  note 
or  so  behind,  a  sad  undertone  to  the  shrill  feminine 
voices. 

What  were  they  singing  about,  these  marching  men 
and  women?  They  sang  of  the  bleak  mountains  which 
hemmed  in  their  valley,  of  cornflowers  and  poppy  seeds, 
of  passionate  love  and  deep  sorrow;  verse  after  verse, 
and  song  after  song.  The  Slovak  songs,  always  plaintive, 
had  in  them  a  new  pathos  as  if  the  singers  knew  that 
while  they  were  marching  away  to  a  land  where  they 
would  have  more  and  better  bread,  meat  three  times  a 
day,  drinks  without  stint,  and  good  clothes — yet  a  land 
in  which  they  would  not  sing  at  their  labor. 

So  they  sang  as  they  marched,  until  they  overtook 
Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company.  Then  they  stopped,  and 
the  elder  of  the  village  from  which  they  came  fell  upon 
his  knees  before  the  Reverend  Father  Anton  Kalman, 
kissed  his  hand  and  the  cross  which  hung  from  the  satin 
sutan,  then  craved  the  priest's  blessing  for  his  people. 

They  helped  him  up  on  to  one  of  the  four  benches 
which  graced  the  Esplanade,  and  he  looked  into  a  sea 
of  faces;  young  men's  faces,  young  women's  faces;  and 
he  lifted  his  hand  and  blessed  them,  saying  nothing 


ON  THE  ESPLANADE  19 

besides,  nor  was  there  anything  necessary  to  be  said. 
They  understood,  though  the  blessing  was  in  a  foreign 
tongue.  The  quality  of  his  voice,  the  tenderness  of 
heart  it  betrayed,  interpreted  its  meaning.  So  they  all 
stood  for  a  moment  reverently,  in  perfect  silence,  and 
the  women  began  to  weep,  and  the  men  held  back  the 
tears.  Then  as  if  to  drive  away  the  sorrow,  they  sang 
again  as  they  began  to  march,  and  this  time  they  sang 
loudly,  lustily,  of  red  wine  and  beautiful  maidens  with 
black  eyes,  until  they  reached  the  railroad  station. 

Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company  were  following,  un 
consciously  keeping  step  with  the  marchers  and  their 
merry  tune. 

The  signal  bells  at  the  station  were  ringing  incessantly, 
the  station  master  was  scurrying  about,  worried  and 
worrying  everybody;  in  the  far  distance  the  penetrating 
whistle  and  the  slow  chug  of  a  train  were  heard. 

The  marchers  had  stopped  their  singing;  for  they 
were  being  crowded  into  the  small  third  class  waiting 
room,  built  at  a  time  when  no  one  dreamed  that  a  hundred 
or  more  passengers  would  ever  board  the  train  at  one 
time.  Their  bundles  and  feather  beds,  their  jugs  of 
slivovitz,  and  their  tickets  so  engaged  their  attention,  that 
without  their  being  aware  of  it  the  train  had  slipped  into 
the  station  and  the  gates  were  opened.  When  they  en 
tered  the  car  they  began  to  sing  again. 

"  The  times  are  growing  worse,"  said  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky,  and  he  thought  of  sugar  beets  and  high  wages 
and  low  morals  coming  from  America.  The  Reverend 
Anton  Kalman  was  thinking  of  Helenka  and  the  curate, 
and  Moritz  Redlich  echoed :  "  The  times  are  growing 


worse." 


Then  another  whistle  was  heard;  it  was  the  train 
coming  from  the  other  direction,  and  if  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky  could  have  had  as  much  vision  as  Moritz 


20        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Redlich,  and  could  have  seen  and  foreseen  what  indeed 
he  could  not  foresee,  he  would  have  said  again  and 
again :  "  The  times  are  growing  worse  " ;  but  he  would 
not  have  been  thinking  of  sugar  beets  and  high  wages 
and  lower  morals,  but  of  something  entirely  different. 


CHAPTER  TWO:  YANEK  ARRIVES 

"YT  7HAT  flows  in  must  flow  out  again,"  Thomas 
V  V  Czerveny  the  worst  of  the  town  drunkards  used 
to  say,  when  the  fiery  palenka  served  him  by  the  Jewish 
tavern  keeper  did  not  flow  freely  enough  out  of  the 
narrow  necked  bottle.  That  was  also  true  of  the  flow 
of  population  to  the  United  States.  The  immigrants 
came  out  of  America  again,  but  greatly  diminished  and 
altered,  and  changing  everything  around  them  slowly 
but  surely,  for  better,  for  worse,  according  to  how  one 
looked  at  things  and  from  what  vantage  ground.  The 
landed  gentry,  among  them  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky,  said 
they  were  a  pack  of  rascals,  socialists,  anarchists  and 
good  for  nothings,  unsettling  everything.  So  also  said 
the  Reverend  Imre  Baczko,  and  all  the  Magyar  officials; 
not  because  they  made  wages  high  and  worked  when  and 
as  they  pleased,  but  because  they  came  back  conscious  of 
nationality  and  of  the  age-old  wrongs  practiced  against 
them  by  their  half  Asiatic  conquerors. 

They  brought  home  Slovak  books  and  newspapers,  and 
read  them  to  their  unlettered  neighbors.  Revolutionary 
songs  were  heard  at  the  inn,  there  was  less  "kowtow 
ing  "  before  the  nobility,  much  kicking  against  the  goads, 
and  the  Magyar  gendarmes  justified  their  existence  by 
using  the  butts  of  their  guns  and  sometimes  the  points 
of  their  bayonets. 

The  crowd  which  had  watched  the  departure  of  the 
emigrants  waited  to  see  who  was  coming  back  from 
America,  and  at  the  edge  of  it  stood  Sanctus  Spiritus 
and  Company,  no  less  curious  than  the  rabble.  Lindner's 
omnibus  and  his  rival's  fiacre,  a  more  pretentious  looking 

21 


22        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

vehicle,  sure  of  profitable  fares,  had  jockeyed  for  posi 
tion  nearest  the  exit,  and  their  owners  were  quarreling 
and  calling  down  the  curses  of  Heaven  upon  one  another. 

Two  coaches  had  drawn  up  and  waited  at  the  gate 
reserved  for  first  and  second  class  passengers.  Their 
drivers  did  not  quarrel  or  speak  to  each  other,  or  deign 
even  to  look  about,  and  if  their  immobile  faces  reflected 
anything,  it  was  contempt.  Contempt  for  the  third  class 
crowd,  the  shabby  looking  omnibus,  the  pretentious  fiacre, 
and  for  each  other's  master  and  horses. 

What  could  there  be  in  common  between  those  two? 
Andrew  Feher,  Magyar  horseman,  cradled  by  the  winds 
of  the  puszta,  nourished  upon  huge  portions  of  gulyash, 
serving  his  time  in  the  sixth  Hussar  regiment,  and  at 
tired  in  a  gorgeous  livery  of  so  much  braid  and  brass 
and  silver  buttons,  that  the  red  cloth  of  his  wide  sleeved 
coat  and  tightly  fitting  trousers  scarcely  showed. 

What  could  there  be  in  common  between  him  and  the 
Slovak,  Stephan  Hruby,  driver  of  the  heavy,  arklike, 
drab  looking  coach,  swinging  upon  huge  old  fashioned 
springs,  and  drawn  by  sedate  looking  roan  mares,  which 
at  any  time  might  be  hitched  to  a  plow  or  a  hay  wagon, 
and  not  feel  insulted.  Stephan  Hruby,  nearly  sixty 
years  of  age,  was  born  in  a  room  adjoining  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky's  stable,  brought  up  in  that  same  room,  curried 
the  Pan's  horses  while  yet  a  little  boy,  and  drove  them 
when  he  was  not  more  than  fifteen  years  old.  He  mar 
ried  the  delicate,  blond,  strangely  sweet  looking  house 
maid  Elzabetha,  began  housekeeping  in  those  same 
rooms,  begat  children  and  shared  all  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky's 
prejudices,  cursing  at  sugar  beets  and  emigration,  and 
standing  up  before  the  Lord  on  Sunday  in  the  pride  of 
the  same  Genevan  faith. 

His  children  played  with  the  Pan's  children,  and  his 
little  Yanek,  the  apple  of  his  eye,  "  smart  as  a  whip  and 


YANEK  ARRIVES  23 

good  as  gold,"  his  Yanek  was  coming  back  to-day  from 
America,  and  coming  back,  not  as  a  coal  miner,  eaten 
up  by  gases,  parched  by  the  hot  furnaces,  cursing  in  a 
foreign  tongue,  drinking  like  a  fish  and  eating  like  a 
glutton;  he  was  coming  back  a  gentleman,  and  more  than 
a  gentleman;  a  scholar,  and  more  than  a  scholar;  and 
he  whispered  it  with  a  holy  awe :  he  was  coming  back  a 
minister  of  the  Gospel !  No  wonder  the  old  man  looked 
proudly  contemptuous. 

Yes,  Yanek  went  away  like  the  others,  a  little  younger 
than  most,  fifteen  years  of  age;  he  went  where  the  others 
went,  to  Pennsylvania,  to  Braddock. 

For  a  long  time  it  was  the  same  story  they  read  in 
his  letters,  the  story  of  hard  labor  and  strange  ways,  of 
big  buildings,  swift  trains  and  strikes.  Then  the  letters 
had  a  new  content.  Yanek  was  going  to  a  normal  school, 
and  he  wrote  of  American  friends  who  were  paying  his 
expenses,  of  the  school  building  and  the  women  teachers 
who  befriended  him;  of  the  new  world  which  was  opened 
to  him  in  books.  Then  came  a  letter  of  eight  pages 
upon  which,  he  did  not  put  enough  postage  and  which 
cost  ever  so  much  money  to  get  from  the  postman,  in 
which  he  talked  about  nothing  but  religion.  It  was 
strange  reading  even  for  so  religious  a  man  as  Stephan 
Hruby,  who  had  accepted  his  salvation  as  a  matter  of 
Divine  decree,  and  looked  up  much  to  God  as  his 
sovereign;  but  never  looked  much  into  his  own  soul, 
and  hardly  even  thought  about  his  sins  or  his  need  of  any 
kind  of  religious  experience. 

Yanek  had  "got  religion."  "  As  if  he  had  not  always 
had  religion ! "  his  mother  cried.  He  had  repented  of 
all  his  sins,  and  as  he  had  asked  God's  forgiveness 
he  asked  his  parents'  pardon.  He  recalled  the  trifling 
sins  of  his  youth,  the  breaking  of  a  window  and  not 
telling  about  it  when  he  was  playing  pleshka;  "as  if  his 


24        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

father  had  not  known  and  forgiven  long  ago !  "  Then 
most  foolish  of  all  things,  he  asked  his  father  to  see 
Christina,  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky's  older  daughter,  and  ask 
her  forgiveness  for  telling  her  one  time  that  the  cherries 
she  was  eating  were  wormy,  and,  when  she  threw  them 
away,  he  had  picked  them  up  and  eaten  them  himself.  It 
was  a  big  lie,  the  cherries  were  not  wormy. 

Christina  laughed  when  she  read  that  part  of  the 
letter  and  said :  "  the  foolish  boy ! "  When  he  added  that 
there  was  another  sin  for  which  she  must  pardon  him, 
that  it  happened  when  they  were  up  in  the  pigeon  loft 
looking  at  the  nests,  she  blushed  and  felt  that  it  was  on 
the  very  place  where  he  had  kissed  her  cheek.  "  Children 
will  be  children,"  said  Stephan  Hruby  smilingly;  "but 
alas,  they  do  not  remain  children." 

What  was  there  indeed,  in  common  between  him  and 
the  Magyar,  Andrew  Feher,  a  rascally  old  bachelor  who 
ate  raw  bacon  with  paprika  an  inch  thick,  and  was  always 
drinking  and  always  in  trouble  with  women;  and  whom 
he  was  serving?  Moritz  Redlich  a  Jew!  The  Jew  was 
well  enough,  the  best  of  the  tribe;  he  never  drove  in  that 
carriage  anyway.  It  was  his  wife's,  a  buxom  Oriental 
beauty.  Stephan  despised  Madam  Amalie  Redlich,  who 
aped  everything  the  aristocratic  Gentiles  did,  who 
powdered  and  painted  her  face,  and  flirted  with  the 
young  bloods.  She  was  the  occupant  of  the  carriage, 
with  her  husband's  daughter  Sophie,  who  had  come  to 
see  the  trains  arrive  and  depart. 

Moritz  Redlich  coughed  more  than  usual,  a  sharper, 
more  nervous  cough,  and  while  he  said  nothing,  the 
priest  knew  that  it  was  his  way  of  saying:  "Ah,  yes, 
the  world  is  growing  worse."  He  was  thinking  of 
Gittele,  his  first  wife,  with  her  hair  modestly  covered, 
as  befits  a  virtuous  Jewish  woman,  her  black  silk  Sab 
bath  dress  setting  off  her  beautiful  pale  face,  which  sug- 


YANEK  ARRIVES  25 

gested  nothing  but  devotion  to  him  and  her  children, 
and  her  austere  and  far  away  God. 

He  glanced  bitterly  at  this  woman,  dressing  only  to 
show  her  form  and  conceal  her  age,  flirting  with  the 
young  officials  who  had  gathered  around  her  carriage, 
kissing  her  hand  and  paying  her  compliments ;  and  after 
wards  making  jokes  at  her  expense,  and  mocking  her 
speech.  Worst  of  all,  she  used  his  Sophie,  the  youngest 
of  Gittele's  children  as  a  sort  of  foil,  taking  her  with 
her  "  God  knows  where." 

Kukulish,  the  pock-marked  postmaster,  was  holding 
his  wife's  hand,  which,  when  she  heard  her  husband's 
nervous  cough,  she  guiltily  withdrew. 

Father  Anton  Kalman  was  using  more  snuff  than 
usual;  his  curate  had  joined  the  gay  cavaliers,  and  for 
a  man  who  was  preaching  so  earnestly  against  a  certain 
sin,  he  seemed  dangerously  frivolous.  When  Father 
Kalman  took  snuff,  he  generally  tapped  the  box  three 
times,  a  form  of  benediction  in  the  name  of  the  Holy 
Trinity.  Now  he  tapped  only  once,  which  was  his  way 
of  being  profane,  and  somewhere  in  his  inner  con 
sciousness  he  was  saying :  "  In  the  devil's  name  why 
does  that  curate  of  mine  look  that  way  at  this  Jewish 
woman  ?  "  Then  he  sneezed. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  had  just  cleaned  his  Dresdenska 
and  refilled  it.  In  trying  to  light  it  he  spoiled  an  unusual 
number  of  matches  on  his  leather  breeches,  for  he  was 
wondering  why  his  carriage  was  at  the  station.  It  was 
rarely  seen  there  unless  a  member  of  the  family  was 
leaving  home  or  guests  were  expected. 

"  No,  Pane  Velcomoshm"  Stephan  replied  to  his  ques 
tion,  "  no  one  is  coming,  no  one  but  my  own  Yanek, 
coming  back  from  America,  and  the  young  ladies  told 
me  I  might  bring  him  home  in  your  honor's  carriage.  Of 
course  you  know,  Pane  Velcomoshni,  he  is  a  minister  and 


26        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

we  couldn't  let  a  minister  walk.  The  old  woman  is  here 
too,  she  is  there  by  the  gate  packed  in  like  the  old  sardine 
she  is.  She  will  sit  here  with  me  on  the  box  and  not 
with  His  Reverence  in  the  carriage." 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  finally  succeeded  in  lighting  his 
pipe.  Inwardly  he  was  displeased  at  the  thought  of  his 
coachman's  son  sitting  in  his  carriage;  the  little,  bare 
footed,  linen  trousered,  towheaded,  Slovak  boy  who  had 
played  with  his  children.  Of  course,  now  he  was  a 
minister,  and  mustn't  walk,  and  certainly  must  not  sit  in 
the  driver's  seat. 

The  signal  bells  continued  their  nervous  ringing,  the 
station  master  scolded  the  crowd  for  one  thing  and 
another.  "Haven't  these  stupid  Slovaks  sense  enough 
not  to  go  so  near  to  the  tracks?  Don't  they  know  any 
better  than  to  encroach  so  seriously  upon  the  space  re 
served  for  their  superiors?  They  are  getting  too  forward 
since  their  kin  have  begun  coming  back  with  money,  from 
America." 

At  last  the  train  pulled  into  the  station,  the  compart 
ment  doors  were  thrown  open  and  the  passengers  alighted. 
The  third  class  passengers  were  not  crowded  like  cattle 
into  the  rear  coach  as/  of  old,  and  did  not  wear  badly 
smelling  sheepskin  coats,  or  carry  huge  bundles,  or  walk 
as  if  the  world  were  made  for  their  betters,  and  they 
permitted  to  live  in  it  only  by  grace  of  the  Hungarian 
Government.  They  jumped  out  of  the  cars  in  nervous 
haste.  The  men  wore  the  sober  garb  of  modern  civiliza 
tion,  the  women  were  overdressed,  and  the  children  were 
noisy  and  forward.  They  looked  with  contempt  at  the 
tiny  engine,  the  toy  cars  and  the  officious  station  master. 
There  was  much  hugging  and  kissing  when  they  had 
passed  through  the  gate,  but  in  a  shy  and  reserved  way 
by  the  returned  travelers,  and  while  their  friends  who 
met  them  cried  for  joy,  they  who  had  come  from  America 


YANEK  ARRIVES  27 

shed  no  tears;  neither  did  they  sing  as  they  did  when 
from  this  same  station  they  went  away,  "  God  knows 
how  many  years  ago." 

It  was  not  easy  to  recognize  one  another.  The  world 
moves,  people  grow  older,  and  alas!  America  changes 
them,  makes  them  something  else,  something  entirely 
different  from  the  docile,  simple  folk  who  followed  her 
beckoning  and  lived  with  her  these  many  years. 

At  last  all  found  their  friends,  and  Lindner's  omnibus 
and  his  rival's  fiacre  were  loaded  with  passengers  and 
their  heavy  leather  suitcases  and  brassbound  trunks; 
yet  an  old,  wrinkled,  Slovak  woman  stood  upon  the 
platform  waiting  for  her  Yanek.  She  had  looked  into 
every  face,  and  in  none  did  she  see  her  boy.  How  could 
she  imagine  that  this  was  her  Yanek,  her  little  boy,  this 
young  gentleman  in  a  dark  gray  suit  and  a  soft  black 
hat,  this  broad  shouldered,  deep  chested,  young  man  with 
the  kindly  face  and  the  laughing  brown  eyes  ?  Naturally 
she  was  not  expecting  her  little  towsle  headed  boy  of 
fifteen.  She  knew  how  many  long  and  bitter  years  had 
passed  since  he  had  left  her,  how1  many  nights  almost; 
for  when  she  went  to  bed  her  last  thought  was  of  him, 
and  when  she  woke,  and  she  woke  so  many  times,  his  face 
was  the  first  to  emerge  from  her  dreams.  Of  course  he 
had  sent  them  his  picture,  the  last  time  was  when  he 
graduated  from  college,  but  it  did  not  seem  like  her  boy, 
this  spectacled,  scholarly  looking  youth.  Yes,  the  nose 
looked  familiar,  and  the  shape  of  the  lips;  all  else  seemed 
changed,  and  when  she  thought  of  her  Yanek,  she  never 
thought  of  him  as  that  somewhat  stiff  looking,  earnest, 
almost  austere  young  man,  but  as  her  fifteen  year  old 
boy,  whom  she  had  kissed  good-by  on  that  same  platform 
so  many  years  ago. 

He  expected  to  see  the  mother  of  about  forty  years, 
whom  he  had  left,  with  her  oval  face  still  fresh,  and 


28        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

framed  by  her  beautiful  lace  cap.  There  would  be  a 
few  wrinkles,  they  age  so  quickly  these  hard  working, 
Slovak  women;  but  this  could  not  be  his  mother,  this 
old,  bent  woman,  her  wrinkled,  parchment  like  face,  turn 
ing  anxiously  in  every  direction.  Yet  they  recognized 
each  other,  though  he  did  not  wear  a  round  collar  as 
she  expected,  and  though  he  did  carry  his  heavy  suitcase, 
which  he  should  not  have  carried,  being  a  gentleman  and 
a  minister.  "  Muy  Sinek!"  she  cried  as  he  clasped  her 
to  his  heart. 

" Moya  Mamushkaf"  he  said  a  dozen  times,  as  he 
stroked  her  face  and  tried  to  wipe  away  her  tears.  Then 
he  heard  the  snapping  of  a  whip,  loud,  like  the  crack 
of  a  pistol,  and  there  sat  his  father  on  the  coachman's 
box,  wearing  the  same  livery  and  the  same  little,  greasy, 
round  hat  with  a  peacock's  feather.  The  same  ticket 
puncher  stood  at  the  gate,  and  the  same  station  master, 
older  and  more  crabbed,  bustled  about.  He  pushed  by 
them  without  a  greeting  in  his  haste  to  be  with  his  father, 
and  mounting  the  box,  gave  him  a  hug  that  left  the  old 
man  breathless.  It  seemed  as  if  the  horses  knew  that 
their  driver  was  supremely  happy,  for  they  whinnied 
and  kicked  up  their  heels  as  they  had  not  for  a  long  time. 

({ Mamushka,  I  will  sit  by  father  and  you  sit  in  the 
carriage." 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not;  who  ever  heard  of  a  minister 
riding  with  the  coachman,  and  a  poor  old  woman  sitting 
in  the  carriage  ?  " 

But  he  lifted  her  in  and  sat  her  down,  then  climbed 
up  on  to  the  box,  looked  eagerly  about,  and  seeing  the 
familiar  church  towers  in  the  distance,  the  four  rows 
of  acacia  trees  on  the  Esplanade,  and  the  faded  Carpa 
thians,  knew  that  he  was  home  again ;  although  the  towers 
looked  smaller  and  the  Esplanade  meaner,  and  the 
Carpathians  not  nearly  so  lofty.  What  assured  him  that 


YANEK  ARRIVES  29 

it  was  not  a  dream,  was  the  sound  of  a  familiar,  nervous 
cough  accompanied  by  the  swish  of  a  satin  sutan  and  the 
swash  of  leather  breeches,  and  when  he  saw  the  well 
remembered  group  he  said  to  his  father;  "  Sanctus 
Spiritus  and  Company  are  still  walking  together." 
"  Yes/'  was  the  reply,  "  they  are  still  walking  together, 
but  it  can't  last  very  much  longer." 

As  they  drove  off,  they  passed  Madam  Redlich's  car 
riage,  and  Andrew  Feher  the  coachman  looked  con 
temptuously  at  the  Pan's  carriage  and  at  its  driver; 
but  one  end  of  his  waxed  mustache  was  lifted  in  a 
supercilious  smile,  as  he  saw  the  old  Slovak  woman 
seated  inside,  and  he  muttered,  "  Tot  Ember  Nem 
Ember,"  the  Slovak  is  not  a  human  being  (a  very 
familiar  by-word  among  his  kind)  "  even  if  his  son 
does  come  back  from  America  dressed  in  citizen's 
clothes."  But  the  Madam  looked  smilingly  into  the  face 
of  this  new  type  of  gentleman,  seated  on  the  coachman's 
box.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  couldn't  believe  that  it  was 
the  Madam,  she  had  remained  so  young.  When  his 
father  told  him  that  the  young  lady  with  her  was  the 
little  Sophie,  his  mind  leaped  back  to  the  day  when  a 
black-eyed  little  Jewess  came  to  school  with  her  eyes 
swollen  from  weeping,  for  it  was  the  day  after  her 
mother's  funeral.  Gathering  all  his  courage  he  had 
walked  up  to  the  girl's  side,  to  the  very  front  of  the 
classroom,  and  given  her  his  new  pen  to  comfort  her. 
She  smiled  at  him  in  gratitude,  and  he  had  never  for 
gotten  the  smile;  but  strange  to  say,  Christina,  the  Pan's 
daughter,  wouldn't  speak  to  him  for  a  week  after  that 
episode,  and  now  he  began  wondering  why. 


CHAPTER  THREE:  ROSEMARY  AND  FEATHER 
BEDS 

"TT  isn't  the  three  thousand  miles  you  have  traveled," 
the  schoolmaster  wrote  to  Yanek  shortly  after  he 
had  entered  college;  "  it  is  the  way  you  are  living  over 
there  in  America,  which  will  carry  you  millions  of  leagues 
away  from  your  people." 

He  was  thinking  about  it  as  he  lay  there  in  the  same 
stuffy  isba  in  which  he  was  born,  on  the  same  feather 
bed  on  which  his  mother  bore  him  in  unrelieved  pain. 
He  had  hardly  drawn  a  full  breath  the  whole  night,  for 
the  windows  were  tightly  closed.  He  was  kept  awake 
by  his  father's  harsh  breathing,  by  the  odor  of  the  huge, 
round,  sour  loaves  of  rye  bread  which  were  stacked 
between  the  rafters  of  the  low  room,  by  the  horses  tug 
ging  at  the  halters  in  the  stable  adjoining,  and  by  the 
angry  barking  of  Sultan  the  watchdog,  a  playful  puppy, 
when  he  left  home. 

Many  and  many  a  time  he  had  cried  himself  to  sleep 
over  in  America,  longing  to  be  again  in  this  same  room 
with  its  bedstead  in  the  center,  piled  high  with  huge 
feather  beds  and  unwieldy  pillows,  the  pride  of  his 
mother's  heart;  the  bake  oven  in  the  corner,  the  childrens' 
playground  and  their  bed.  To-night  it  was  occupied  by 
his  parents,  for  his  mother  insisted  that  her  minister 
son  must  not  sleep  there.  How  often  had  he  visualized 
the  gayly  decorated  earthen  ware,  the  huge  soup  bowl, 
the  red  pots  and  wooden  spoons  on  the  crudely  carved 
shelf.  The  smoky  rafters  which  used  to  seem  so  high 
above  him,  now  were  so  near  that  he  knocked  his  head 

30 


ROSEMARY  AND  FEATHER  BEDS    31 

against  them  as  he  tossed  about,  wishing  himself  back 
in  the  college  dormitory,  with  its  fresh  air  blowing 
through  the  open  windows,  and  the  nodding  elms  with 
their  smooth,  strong  and  graceful  branches,  whispering 
to  him  the  hopes  and  aspirations  of  those  brave,  far 
seeing  Puritans  who  had  planted  them,  and  who  now 
seemed  to  him  nearer  than  his  own  flesh  and  blood,  from 
whom  indeed  he  had  traveled  "  millions  of  leagues." 

"  Sinku  mny "  his  mother  asked  him,  singing  the 
words  more  than  speaking  them,  making  three  syllables 
out  of  the  word  for  son,  though  it  had  only  two;  "  why 
don't  you  sleep  ?  "  Her  heart  was  heavy  from  the  same 
thoughts  as  his. 

"  For  gladness/'  he  replied,  and  leaving  his  bed  he 
climbed  up  on  the  bake  oven  to  her  side,  but  while  he 
held  her  in  his  arms,  he  knew  he  had  not  told  her  the 
truth;  for  he  had  traveled  far  even  from  her,  the  mother 
who  was  everything  to  him.  He  knew  it  by  his  recoil 
at  the  touch  of  her  coarse  flax  shirt,  and  the  hard  crooked 
fingers  which  held  his  as  in  a  vise;  by  his  shrinking  from 
contact  with  the  parchment  like,  wrinkled  cheeks  he 
kissed,  and  the  very  breath  of  her  lips  as  they  sought  his. 

If  he  had  traveled  far  from  her,  how  much  farther 
he  had  gone  from  his  father  who  was  tossing  and  groan 
ing  in  his  alcoholic  sleep,  gnashing  his  teeth,  and  mut 
tering  curses  against  Andrew  Feher  and  the  whole  miser 
able  crew  which  had  taunted  him  about  his  proud  son 
who  would  not  go  with  him  to  the  inn. 

His  mother  with  her  far  seeing  eyes  had  divined  it  all 
before  he  came  home.  She  knew  it  as  soon  as  those 
letters  came  from  the  college,  the  letters  which  Mlada 
Panka  Christina  read  to  her  and  insisted  upon  keeping. 
She  tried  to  lessen  the  distance  by  borrowing  fine  linen 
sheets  from  Mlada  Panka  Christina,  who  put  rosemary 
between  the  feather  beds  "  because  rosemary  smells  of 


32        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

home."  And  did  she  not  herself  buy  new  cotton  ticking 
to  covef  the  feather  beds,  finely  striped  ticking  such  as 
the  nobility  used?  And  did  she  not  scrub  the  house 
from  the  rafters  to  the  floor,  and  take  the  old  sheepskin 
coats  which  smelled  so  badly,  and  put  them  into  the 
woodshed  ? 

She  was  chiding  herself  because  she  had  not  thought 
to  buy  Yanek  a  plate  of  white  china;  for  she  noticed 
at  supper  how  embarrassed  he  was  when  he  dipped  his 
spoon  into  the  common  bowl,  and  how  he  spilled  most 
of  the  food  on  the  way  to  his  only  half  opened  lips.  He 
scarcely  touched  the  veal  Petchenka  she  had  prepared 
with  so  much  care,  and  which  his  father  crunched  with 
such  audible  delight.  She  asked  him  then,  why  he  did 
not  eat,  and  he  had  said  the  same  thing;  "  for  gladness, 
Mamushka."  Of  course,  her  husband  should  not  have 
asked  him  to  go  to  the  inn  with  him  to  celebrate  his 
return. 

How  angry  the  old  man  was  when  he  declined  to  go. 
He  felt  himself  cheated  out  of  the  great  joy  of  showing 
off  his  son  before  Andrew  Feher,  the  Magyar  coachman, 
who  always  taunted  the  returned  immigrants  and  told 
them  they  were  good  for  nothing  but  to  do  the  Americans' 
hard  and  dirty  work.  Stephan  wanted  to  show  him  what 
his  son  had  become  over  in  America,  and  he  was  going 
to  take  him  into  the  extra  room,  where  the  town  digni 
taries  sat,  and  drink  sweet  wine  though  it  was  not  a 
holy  day.  He  would  show  those  proud,  fat  bellied 
merchants,  who  never  permitted  a  sheepskin  coated 
Slovak  to  enter  that  extra  room,  that  a  peasant's  son  could 
become  a  gentleman  if  he  had  a  chance. 

Of  course  he  did  not  understand  what  his  son  was 
talking  about,  when  he  said  he  did  not  drink  alcohol 
because  it  took  away  a  man's  health  and  reason,  and  that 
it  was  alcohol  which  had  made  the  Jewish  tavern  keepers 


ROSEMARY  AND  FEATHER  BEDS     33 

rich,  and  had  kept  the  Slovaks  poor,  and  the  patient 
subjects  of  their  Magyar  over  lords. 

"  Listen  to  little  Yanek.  He  needn't  try  to  teach  his 
father,  even  though  he  is  a  minister.  Palenka  ye  sila," 
whisky  is  strength,  Stephan  retorted.  "  Could  he  not 
lift  a  three  bushel  bag  of  wheat  as  he  always  had  done? 
Let  his  son  try  it,  his  reverend  son,  who  did  not  drink 
palenka."  Then  he  banged  the  door  and  went  off  alone 
to  the  inn,  to  celebrate  h:s  son's  return  as  every  father 
had  a  right  to,  when  his  boy  came  back  from  over  the 
seas. 

It  wasn't  so  much  of  a  success,  this  one  sided  celebra 
tion.  Of  course,  they  refused  to  serve  him  in  the  extra 
room,  though  he  ordered  wine  as  if  it  were  the  first 
day  of  Easter,  and  when  he  came  out  and  sat  down  with 
the  common  herd,  Andrew  Feher  was  there  to  taunt 
him.  There  he  was,  fiercely  mustached  Magyar,  eating 
raw  bacon  with  paprika  an  inch  thick,  and  washing  it 
down  with  fine,  sweet  wine.  When  he  had  wiped  his 
long-  mustaches  and  twirled  them  back  into  a  needle 
point,  he  began  to  ask  whether  Stephan's  old  horses  were 
not  yet  ready  for  the  horse  meat  market  in  Budapest, 
and  where  his  reverend  son  was.  "  No  wonder  he  did 
not  want  to  go  to  the  inn  with  his  Slovak  father." 

Yanek's  mother  was  as  restless  that  night  as  he  was. 
She  realized  how  far  her  little  boy  had  traveled  away 
from  her  when  she  saw  him  looking  for  a  corner,  where 
unobserved  he  might  prepare  for  bed.  He  went  behind 
the  bake  oven,  where  many  a  time  as  a  boy  he  had 
hidden  himself,  and  from  her  corner  she  watched  him  un 
dress.  Not  even  the  Pan  himself,  no  not  even  the  Foe 
Ispan  whose  clothes  she  once  washed  when  he  was  a 
guest  at  the  Pan's  house,  had  such  underwear  of  fine 
wool,  so  closely  fitting  that  it  needed  no  strings  to  hold 
it  to  his  body.  He  put  on  a  soft,  silky  suit,  such  as 


34        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

she  had  never  seen,  and  then  he  took  from  his  suitcase, 
white  handled  brushes  and  delicate  instruments  of  steel, 
such  as  she  had  seen  the  watchmaker  use,  and  when  he 
had  washed  himself  he  cleaned  his  finger  nails  as  if  he 
were  going  to  a  ball  given  by  the  nobility. 

She  felt  ashamed  to  undress  herself  before  him,  and 
went  out  into  the  dark  kitchen,  where  she  gargled  her 
mouth  so  loudly  that  her  son  must  hear  her.  She  took 
down  her  hair  as  if  it  were  Sunday,  and  put  on  a  clean 
flax  shirt,  the  best  she  had.  When  her  husband  came 
home  drunk,  she  felt  humiliated  and  was  offended  at  the 
foulness  of  his  breath.  She  did  not  respond  to  his 
coarse  caresses,  and  put  her  hand  over  his  mouth  when 
he  swore  at  her,  and  asked  whether  his  reverend  son 
had  weaned  his  wife  from  him. 

She  knew  that  Yanek  was  not  sleeping;  she  could  hear 
him  toss  about,  and  again  she  asked :  "  Sinku  muy,  why 
don't  you  sleep  ?  "  And  he  made  believe  he  was  asleep, 
and  did  not  answer  her. 

"  Yanetchku,  my  golden  boy,  do  you  know  that  our 
Katchka  has  had  another  baby?"  Still  there  was  no 
answer. 

"  Yanetchku  muy,  is  it  true  that  in  America  the 
women  do  not  work,  but  sit  all  day  long  in  their  rocking 
chairs  and  eat  candy  ?  " 

Then  he  betrayed  himself.  "  No,  motherkin,  who  told 
you  such  nonsense?" 

'  The  new  Fraulein  who  has  been  in  America,  and 
teaches  all  the  Mlada  Pankas  how  to  sing.  Such  funny 
sinking,  sonny ;  she  makes  their  voices  climb  up  and  then 
down  again,  and  it  sounds  as  if  they  were  in  pain.  Old 
Sultan  does  n^t  like  the  Fraulein.  He  begins  to  howl 
when  he  sees  her  coming,  and  when  she  sings  he  howls 
the  more  and  she  grows  very  angry." 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence. 


ROSEMARY  AND  FEATHER  BEDS    35 

"  I  don't  like  the  new  Fraulein  either,"  his  mother  be 
gan  again.  "  She  says  the  American  men  have  no  man 
ners,  that  they  chew  tobacco  and  spit  it  around  as  if  they 
were  in  a  pig  sty." 

"Oh,   motherkin,   that  isn't   so  either;   now   go   to 
sleep,  dearest." 

"  Sinku  muy,  is  it  true  that  the  American  women  do 
not  know  how  to  cook?  The  Fraulein  says  that  they 
do  all  their  housekeeping  with  a  frying  pan  and  a  teapot. 
You  will  never  marry  an  Americanska,  will  you,  sonny  ?  " 

"  No,  motherkin,  there  is  no  danger,"  he  replied,  and 
then  turned  over  and  breathed  as  deeply  as  he  could  to 
make  her  think  he  was  asleep. 

" Sinetchku  muy"  came  again  from  the  bake  oven. 

"  Motherkin,  do  go  to  sleep;  you  will  need  to  be  rested 
to-morrow;  "  but  she  did  not  heed  his  protest. 

"Sinku  muy,  do  you  know  that  the  schoolmaster  has 
the  consumption?" 

Then  he  sat  up  in  his  bed  with  a  start.  "  No,  mother- 
kin,  it  can't  be  true !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is,  and  he  drinks  malt  and  chocolate  and 
eats  raw  eggs,  yet  he  coughs  all  the  time  and  has  to  stay 
in  bed.  He  isn't  for  long." 

His  schoolmaster  ill,  his  best  friend,  the  man  to  whom 
he  owed  his  first  glimpses  into  the  larger  world,  and  who 
encouraged  his  going  away !  "  Oh,  mother,  it  can't  be 
true!  How  did  it  happen?" 

"  You  know,  Yanetchku,  that  they  sent  him  to  Nyitra 
to  prison,  because  he  would  not  teach  the  children  the 
Magyar  language.  He  took  cold  from  the  dampness  there 
and  he  has  been  coughing  ever  since  he  came  back." 

Yanek  buried  his  head  in  the  pillow,  as  he  began  to 
feel  the  pain  of  belonging  to  his  own  people  from  whom 
the  blessed  America  had  almost  weaned  him.  He  had 
heard  about  the  forcible  Magyarization  of  the  Slovaks, 


36        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

but  it  was  all  so  far  away,  so  blessedly  far;  and  now 
it  had  touched  him  so  closely  that  it  could  not  come  much 
closer. 

"  Such  things  do  not  happen  in  America,  my  son,  do 
they?" 

"  No,  motherkin,  they  do  not.  No  one  molests  you 
over  there,  no  matter  what  language  you  speak."  Then 
he  embraced  his  pillow  and  held  it  close,  as  if  it  were  the 
America  which  did  not  ask  him  about  his  race  or  speech; 
just  gave  herself  and  all  she  had  to  give  to  him,  to  help 
him  be  what  he  had  become :  A  Slovak,  yet  an  American, 
and  something  more  than  an  American,  a  human  being, 
unbranded,  a  child  of  God.  Yes,  the  first  thing  he  must 
do  in  the  morning  must  be  to  go  and  see  the  schoolmaster. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then  his  father  groaned 
in  his  sleep  and  again  muttered  curses  on  Andrew  Feher 
and  all  the  Magyar  crew  which  had  taunted  him  about 
his  proud  son.  Yet  in  spite  of  everything  Yanek  felt 
himself  coming  nearer,  nearer  home.  Something  drew 
him  back,  away  from  America  with  its  many  alluring 
comforts,  its  delicate,  clean  ways,  and  he  began  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself,  and  called  himself  an  ingrate  and 
a  cad. 

His  father's  breathing  became  easier,  and  he  himself 
seemed  to  find  the  heavy,  odorous  air  less  disagreeable. 
Reaching  up,  he  felt  the  loaves  of  rye  bread  and  with  his 
fingers  traced  in  their  hard  crust  the  shape  of  a  rooster, 
his  mother's  mark,  which  each  loaf  bore  so  that  it  could 
not  be  mistaken  for  the  bread  of  her  neighbors,  who 
took  it  to  the  same  bake  oven.  The  taste  of  fresh  rye- 
bread  came  to  his  lips,  and  he  recalled  that  he  used 
to  like  the  crust  when  it  was  crisp,  and  that  his  mother 
always  left  him  hers;  then  he  was  a  little  boy  again, 
running  about  in  loose,  flax  trousers  and  a  shirt  of  the 
same  material,  hard  and  harsh  and  scratchy  in  shape, 


ROSEMARY  AND  FEATHER  BEDS     37 

but  not  in  texture,  something  like  his  pajamas.  Life 
after  all  is  the  same  everywhere,  the  difference  is  only  in 
the  feel  of  it,  he  thought. 

"  My  golden  son,"  his  mother  said  again,  after  a 
while,  "you  are  not  sleeping." 

"  No,  motherkin,  how  can  I  ?  "  And  he  left  his  bed 
once  more,  and  climbed  again  to  the  bake  oven,  and  this 
time  he  held  his  mother  closer  and  kissed  her  full  upon 
the  lips,  which  he  had  not  done  before,  and  her  rough 
shirt  did  not  hurt  him  though  he  held  her  very  close. 

She  told  him  about  Dr.  Makutchky  who  had  been  to 
Russia  and  had  come  back  with  a  strange  religion,  which 
he  had  got  from  a  man  whose  name  she  could  not  re 
member.  "  And  they  say  the  doctor  is  crazy,  for  now 
he  will  not  take  any  money  from  the  poor,  for  giving 
medicine,  and  he  does  not  go  to  church;  but  some  of 
the  people  come  to  his  house  for  a  meeting,  and  the 
gendarmes  have  forbidden  it.  Nevertheless,  they  meet 
somewhere,  sometimes  out  in  the  vineyards,  another  time 
in  the  Bashanyitza,  and  they  say  he  will  also  be  sent  to 
prison  like  the  schoolmaster,  and  get  the  coughing  sick 
ness." 

She  told  him  how  dear  everything  had  become,  the 
coffee  and  the  flour  and  the  meat,  more  than  twice  as 
dear  as  when  he  was  at  home.  "  The  Pan  says  it  is 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  peasants  go  to  America,  but  Dr. 
Makutchky  says  it  is  due  to  the  men's  having  to  be 
soldiers,  and  the  government's  building  battleships,  one 
of  which  costs  more  than  a  peasant  could  earn,  even  if 
he  lived  to  be  as  old  as  Methuselah." 

Then  she  told  him  more  about  their  Katchka  and  the 
grandchildren,  and  that  young  Baron  Smertzing  had 
seduced  certain  girls  with  whom  he  had  gone  to  school, 
and  that  there  was  trouble  in  the  Redlich  household,  due 
to  the  German  chemist,  and  that  they  were  afraid  Mlada 


38        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Panka  Sophie  also  had  the  consumption  like  her  mother. 

She  talked  herself  out  in  his  arms  and  cried  a  little, 
and  wanted  to  be  sure  that  he  was  not  angry  at  his  father, 
and  whether  he  would  preach  in  the  church ;  and  when  he 
thought  her  asleep,  he  slipped  back  into  his  bed;  but 
hardly  had  he  covered  himself  with  the  feather  bed  which 
had  fallen  to  the  floor,  than  his  mother's  voice  was 
heard  again. 

"  Sinetchku,  do  you  know  that  Mlada  Panka  Christina 
is  writing  for  the  papers  about  us  poor  Slovaks  ?  " 

No,  he  had  not  known  that. 

"  And  they  say  she  will  be  arrested  and  sent  to  Nyitra 
to  prison  and  get  the  coughing  sickness." 

At  that  his  heart  began  to  beat  heavily  and  he  did 
not  say  anything  in  reply.  For  the  last  time,  in  a  very 
sleepy  voice  his  mother  asked,  "  Are  you  asleep,  my 
golden  son?  "  And  when  he  replied  that  he  was  not,  she 
said:) 

;t  The  Mlada  Panka  Christina  lent  me  the  sheets  for 
your  bed  and  she  put  sprigs  of  rosemary  between  them." 

Then  strange  to  say,  the  air  in  the  room  grew  much 
sweeter,  and  he  felt  guiltily  for  the  fragrant  twigs,  and 
when  he  held  them  in  his  hand,  America  seemed  farther 
away  and  his  home  ever  so  much  nearer  than  when  the 
train  had  brought  him  only  a  few  hours  before. 


CHAPTER  FOUR:  THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN 

WHEN  Yanek  woke  from  his  short  but  refreshing 
sleep,  he  seemed  to  be  still  on  board  ship,  for  he 
saw  the  floor  swaying;  but  as  the  bed  was  so  much 
larger,  he  began  gradually  to  realize  that  he  was  on  land, 
but  where  ?  Yes,  it  was  clear  to  him  now.  There  to  the 
right  was  the  door  leading  into  the  dormitory  hall, 
straight  ahead  of  him  the  sitting  room  which  he  shared 
with  his  chum,  and  through  the  windows  he  could  see  the 
waving  elms.  The  windows  however  seemed  smaller, 
the  ceiling  lower,  and  the  trees  were  shrinking  before  his 
very  eyes!  What  stunted,  ugly  things  they  had  become 
overnight ! 

Evidently  he  was  dreaming  or  waking  from  a  dream 
for  he  heard  a  voice,  a  dear,  familiar  voice,  chanting 
"  Varila,  Mishitschka  Kashitshku"  the  Slovak  version 
of  "This  little  pig  went  to  market/'  and  accompanying 
the  song,  the  vigorous  movement  of  a  brush. 

He  sat  up  in  his  bed  with  a  start,  and  there  in  the 
next  room  was  his  mother.  The  first  thing  he  noticed 
was  that  she  was  barefoot  and  that  she  wore  a  gayly 
colored,  short  skirt  which  showed  her  muscular  calves 
nearly  to  the  knees.  She  was  alternately  petting  and 
brushing  his  shoe,  and  chanting  to  it  as  she  used  to  chant 
to  him  when  she  wakened  him  by  playing  with  his  toes. 

He  saw  her  looking  curiously  at  the  broad,  strangely 
shaped  sole,  at  the  yellow  thread  with  which  it  was 
stitched,  but  she  kept  on  brushing  and  fondling  it  until 
his  strong  arms  held  her  and  he  took  up  the  simple  chant : 
"  A  little  mouse  cooked  some  porridge  and  she  gave  some 
to  this  one,"  and  he  kissed  her  on  one  cheek,  "  and  some 

39 


40        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

to  that  one,"  and  he  kissed  her  on  the  other  cheek,  "  and 
to  this  one  she  gave  nothing,"  and  with  that  he  snatched 
the  shoe  from  her  hand,  saying  that  in  America  the 
ladies  did  not  blacken  the  gentlemen's  shoes. 

So  this  was  not  the  ship  on  which  he  had  spent  nine 
rather  miserable  days,  or  his  dormitory  where  he  had 
been  so  happy.  What  had  seemed  to  him  the  door  into 
the  hall,  was  the  bake  oven,  and  the  sitting  room  was  the 
kitchen,  and  the  shrunken  elm  trees  were  brutally  trimmed 
acacia  trees.  Of  course,  there  was  no  shower  bath, 
and  no  hot  water,  for  this  was  not  America,  but  a  remote 
corner  of  Slovakland,  from  which  he  had  gone  away 
as  the  Pan's  stable  boy  and  had  returned  a  Bachelor  of 
Arts  and  Divinity  and  an  ordained  Protestant  minister, 
fledged  at  a  time  when  Evangelical  clergymen  were  dis 
carding  their  Prince  Albert  coats  and  getting  rid  of 
the  appearance,  if  not  of  the  odor  of  sanctity,  and  finally 
of  the  last  symbol  of  their  holy  calling,  the  white  string 
tie. 

He  returned  to  his  home  more  Anglo-Saxon  than 
Slav,  more  human  than  either,  bearing  in  his  face  the 
marks  of  the  new  environment,  and  of  a  deep,  consuming 
passion. 

The  two  years  he  spent  on  the  breakers  of  a  coal  mine 
in  Pennsylvania  might  have  been  responsible  for  the  fact 
that  he  had  not  grown  so  tall  as  those  who  knew  him, 
expected,  but  there  were  desirable  changes  in  his  face. 
The  heavy  Slavic  features  bore  a  finer  mold,  and  were 
enlivened  by  a  pair  of  lustrous  brown  eyes  which  had 
lost  the  look  of  suspicion  so  common  among  his  kind; 
there  was  something  of  the  mystic  around  his  thin  nose 
and  sensitive  lips,  but  America  had  set  his  jaw  rather 
firmly,  and  strengthened  his  chin. 

He  was  a  mystic,  one  who  had  learned  to  find  his  way 
not  only  to  God,  but  also  to  the  hearts  of  men.  He  looked 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  41 

like  a  man  who  could  govern  by  his  affections  rather  than 
by  his  will,  and  indeed  children  and  dogs  went  to  him 
instinctively.  When  a  baby  remained  unresponsive  to 
his  caresses  or  a  dog  kept  on  barking  at  him,  he  searched 
his  soul  for  uncleanness  or  selfishness. 

For  more  than  four  years  he  had  stood  expectantly  at 
the  rim  of  the  universe  waiting  for  the  coming  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God  for  which  he  had  been  taught  to  work 
and  pray,  and  which  he  saw  in  the  near  distance,  as  a 
sort  of  glorified  United  States  of  America,  while  the 
"bride  adorned  for  her  bridegroom  descending  from 
Heaven  "  was  a  deified  Columbia.  From  this  elevated 
vantage  ground,  in  danger  of  being  spoiled  by  being 
petted  as  a  splendid  example  of  the  converted  foreigner, 
and  equipped  to  be  a  messenger  of  light  to  his  people, 
he  had  stepped  suddenly  into  the  Tohu  Vavohu  of  the 
Austro-Hungarian  Monarchy,  created  by  a  decadent 
dynasty  and  by  the  clashing  national  ambitions  and  ideals 
of  her  unassimilated  peoples. 

It  was  dark  when  he  had  arrived  in  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky's  domain  the  night  before,  and  he  was  eager 
to  see  again  his  little  world  which  he  had  left  ten  years 
before.  The  houses  or  rather  a  succession  of  houses  lean 
ing  against  one  another,  straggling  along  irregularly  from 
the  street  down  to  the  river,  were  all  alike,  tinted  in  the 
same  yellowish  color  which  was  regularly  renewed  before 
Easter.  Facing  the  street  was  the  Pan's  residence  two 
stories  high,  the  upper  story  being  reached  from  the 
garden  by  a  rather  imposing  flight  of  stone  steps  which 
he  had  so  often  ascended  for  the  pleasure  of  sliding  down 
the  smooth  balustrade. 

Adjoining  the  Pan's  house  were  the  servants'  quarters, 
then  came  the  stables,  the  coachman's  and  gardner's 
houses,  and  the  hospice,  as  it  was  called,  where  super 
annuated  servants  were  sheltered,  with  such  human 


42        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

wreckage  as  could  not  be  cared  for  by  the  town.  It  may 
have  been  the  sight  of  these  helpless  people  and  the  living 
so  near  them  in  his  youth  which  had  given  him  the  keen 
sociological  sense  which  he  possessed. 

All  the  way  from  the  Pan's  kitchen  down  to  the  river 
ran  a  shallow  ditch,  and  no  remembrance  of  the  time 
when  he  waded  in  it  as  a  boy  could  make  it  smell  sweet 
this  morning  as  he  stepped  out  into  the  Pan's  domain. 
On  the  steps  of  the  hospice  sat  a  little  girl  who  rose  at 
his  approach,  lifting  her  long  arms  as  if  she  were  going 
to  fly  through  space,  and  then  dropping  them  suddenly. 
Over  her  face  flashed  a  gleam  of  light,  as  if  it  were  strug 
gling  against  the  darkness  which  held  her  mind  in  thrall ; 
but  in  an  instant  it  was  gone,  leaving  her  face  ashen  gray 
and  dull.  She  tried  to  speak  but  only  inarticulate  sounds 
escaped  her  lips. 

Leaning  against  one  of  the  acach  trees,  Yanek  saw 
Pepo,  the  idiot,  looking  as  if  he  had  never  moved  from 
his  favorite  lounging  place.  He  had  been  left  on  the 
town,  an  illegitimate  child,  and  the  town  not  knowing 
what  to  do  with  him,  nor  caring  much,  let  him  drift 
about  until  very  naturally  he  came  into  the  Pan's  hospice. 
Seeing  Pepo  and  the  imbecile  child,  Yanek  remembered 
what  had  happened;  for  they  talked  about  such  things 
rather  freely  in  Hraszova. 

There  was  a  young  housemaid  of  the  Pan's,  an  igno 
rant,  very  homely,  coarse  girl,  Marisha  by  name.  The 
boys  always  passed  her  by;  none  of  them  came  to  her 
window  at  night,  and  she  was  never  asked  to  dance, 
although  she  stood  for  hours  expectant,  at  the  inn. 
Yet  some  one  must  have  desired  her,  and  when  they  asked 
her  who  was  the  father  of  the  expected  child,  she  lied 
to  them;  but  when  the  boys  she  accused,  indignantly 
denied,  and  threatened  her,  she  named  Pepo,  and  the 
town  fairly  shook  from  laughter. 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  43 

So  this  wretched  little  girl  was  Pepo's  and  Marisha's! 
He  tried  to  caress  her  but  she  spat  at  him,  hissing  like  a 
snake. 

Pepo  turned  around  and  smiled  in  his  bland  way,  and 
to  Yanek's  greeting  he  replied :  "  Pepo  is  waiting  for 
breakfast.  First  prayers,  then  breakfast.  Wish  it  were 
breakfast  first;  "  and  he  laughed  a  loud,  hollow  laugh. 
Pepo,  besides  being  an  idiot  was  naturally  thievish,  like 
a  starling  or  a  mountain  rat,  and  wherever  anything  was 
missing,  Pepo  was  caught  and  beaten,  whether  he  was  the 
culprit  or  not. 

Just  then  Marisha  came  out  of  the  stable,  the  only 
object  Yanek  had  thus  far  seen  which  seemed  not  to 
have  diminished.  Robust  as  a  man,  and  grown  coarser 
with  the  years,  an  evil  tongue  in  her  head  always,  she 
dropped  the  milk  pails  at  seeing  him,  put  her  arms  akimbo 
and  scrutinized  the  stranger.  She  replied  to  his  pious 
greeting,  after  calling  upon  the  devil  once  or  twice,  then 
wondered  whether  this  could  be  the  coachman's  son 
whose  face  she  had  slapped  many  a  time  because  he  had 
walked  with  his  muddy  boots  over  the  clean  kitchen  floor. 
When  he  admitted  laughingly  that  he  was  the  identical 
boy,  she  asked  what  kind  of  minister  he  was  anyway, 
walking  about  in  such  ordinary  clothes.  "  No  doubt  you 
are  a  Salvesh."  Everything  which  was  not  of  the  con 
ventional,  religious  type  and  which  came  from  America 
was  supposed  to  belong  to  the  Salvation  Army.  "Did 
you  bring  me  anything  from  America?"  she  demanded, 
and  when  nothing  in  the  way  of  a  present  was  forthcom 
ing,  with  an  air  of  contempt,  she  strode  into  the  kitchen. 

In  Slovakland  servants  were  hired  by  the  year,  from 
All  Souls'  day  till  that  solemn  day  came  around  again; 
but  at  the  Pan's  they  stayed  till  they  were  married,  and 
many  of  them  till  they  became  a  part  of  the  vast  throng 
which,  on  that  holy  day,  revisited  the  earth. 


44        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Yanek  stepped  into  the  stable  and  there  he  was 
greeted  by  a  friendly  "  Yak  sa  mayu."  There  stood 
Martzin  Stefechek,  his  boyhood's  friend,  grooming  the 
horses  as  his  father,  one-eyed  Stefechek,  had  groomed 
them  before  him.  The  meeting  was  spoiled,  however,  by 
Martzin' s  reference  to  their  predatory  habits  when  they 
were  boys,  out  there  in  the  Pan's  garden.  "  How  won 
derful  is  the  Divine  Providence  which  can  make  out  of  a 
little  apple  thief  a  minister!"  Worst  of  all  he  recalled 
to  Yanek's  mind  one  of  the  sins  which  he  had  forgotten : 
How,  on  a  fair  day,  they  had  gone  together  to  the  honey- 
cake  seller's  booth  and  being  tempted  by  the  highly  col 
ored  sweets  had  stolen  a  honeycake  heart  and  eaten  it. 
The  fact  that  Martzin  did  the  actual  pilfering  and  had 
given  Yanek  the  smaller  half  of  the  stolen  heart,  did  not 
make  him  feel  any  more  comfortable,  though  he  recalled 
those  mitigating  circumstances. 

:*  You  know,"  Martzin  continued,  "  I  have  been  at  it 
ever  since,  only  now  I  steal  girls'  hearts,"  and  he  began 
telling  how  many  Marishas  and  Katyushkas  had  fallen  a 
prey  to  his  lust,  when  most  fortunately  Stephan  ap 
peared,  and  overhearing  the  conversation,  told  Martzin 
to  keep  his  foul  mouth  shut,  or  he  would  send  him  to  the 
devil  before  his  appointed  time. 

Father  and  son  shook  hands,  and  in  the  lingering 
clasp  there  were  both  asking  and  granting  forgiveness. 
He  warned  his  son  not  to  go  too  far  away,  for  after 
prayers  at  the  Pan's  there  would  be  breakfast,  and  the 
old  woman  was  cooking  coffee  as  if  it  were  Sunday,  and 
the  baker's  boy  was  to  bring  white  rolls;  yes,  indeed, 
they  were  going  to  live  high  in  his  honor. 

As  Yanek  passed  the  Pan's  house  he  involuntarily 
looked  up  to  the  second  story,  and  as  quickly  looked 
away,  for  he  thought  he  saw  the  shutters  moved  by  a 
woman's  hand,  and  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  bit  of  lace 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  45 

hanging  from  a  shapely  arm,  which  he  saw  in  a  purely 
subconscious  way,  for  he  was  thinking  deeply. 

Confused  as  he  often  had  been  by  his  teachers,  who 
had  made  his  small  simple  world  so  complex  and  so 
incomprehensively  large,  his  knowledge  of  the  laws  which 
shackle  the  Universe  caused  him  to  doubt  special  in 
terventions  of  Providence,  yet  in  common  with  most 
mortals,  upon  whom  good  fortune  has  smiled,  he  believed 
in  a  guiding  Providence  as  far  as  he  personally  was  con 
cerned.  How  could  he  doubt  that,  after  his  conversation 
with  Martzin?  Might  not  he  have  been  just  a  stable 
hand,  and  his  moral  outlook  as  tainted  and  drear?  Why, 
among  all  the  boys  he  recalled,  should  he  have  been 
saved  from  that  deadening  toil  in  the  mines,  and  led 
where  he  did  not  know  a  way  existed?  Who  else  but 
God  was  leading  him,  what  else  but  the  Divine  Provi 
dence  ? 

He  was  thinking  thus  as  he  looked  up  and  down  the 
street,  at  the  row  of  straw  thatched  isbas,  their  adobe 
walls  leaning  in  or  out,  alone,  breaking  the  monotonous 
line.  Besides  the  Pan's,  there  were  just  two  houses  of 
two  stories:  Baron  Smertzing's  cast  ell,  and  the  Redlich 
house,  to  which  the  second  story  had  been  added  only 
recently. 

Had  he  been  in  the  United  States  he  would  have  said 
that  the  town  was  booming;  for  there  were  several  new 
houses,  and  a  strip  of  cement  walk  had  been  wedged  in 
between  the  cobble  stones  on  which  he  had  so  often 
stubbed  his  toes  and  skinned  his  ankles.  There  was  the 
tall  chimney  of  the  sugar  refinery,  and  a  whole  cluster 
of  buildings  where  Moritz  Redlich's  distillery,  a  very 
modest  structure,  stood,  when  he  last  looked  down  this 
same  street. 

Huge  carts,  drawn  by  white  oxen,  came  past  him, 
going  out  to  the  beet  fields,  the  patient,  big  horned  beasts 


46        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

needing  no  goad  to  make  them  keep  their  leisurely  pace. 
The  carts  were  full  of  the  "  beeters,"  strangers  to  him, 
Kopany  it  chary,  or  mountaineers,  the  poorest  of  the 
Slovaks.  Driven  by  their  Asiatic  conquerors  into  the 
unfertile  mountain  regions,  they  were  now  the  benefici 
aries  of  the  movement  to  America.  They  took  the  places 
of  those  whom  the  mines  and  steel  furnaces  had  lured 
away  by  the  high  wages  paid.  These  had  no  land  to 
sell  to  the  Sugar  Trust,  no  money  to  pay  the  price  of  the 
ticket  to  America,  and  perhaps  no  enterprise  to  venture 
across  the  sea. 

Behind  the  carts  came  boys  and  girls  recruited  for  the 
task.  They  were  singing  as  they  marched  though  they 
would  work  till  sunset  and  had  not  much  else  than  cab 
bage  soup  and  hard  rye  bread  in  their  dinner  pails. 

At  the  end  of  the  day's  work  they  would  sleep  in  the 
barracks  built  for  them,  all  of  them  together  in  those 
low,  unlighted,  unaired  barracks.  Yet  they  were  sing 
ing  their  solemn  tunes,  weird  records  of  bygone,  almost 
forgotten,  national  struggles,  and  keeping  step  to  their 
music.  It  was  their  song  which  made  Yanek  realize  how 
related  he  was  to  these  people,  and  something  in  him 
began  to  sing  though  he  did  not  open  his  lips,  and  he  kept 
stejf  with  them  though  his  feet  did  not  move. 

He  greeted  the  workers  with  the  pious  Slovak  saluta 
tion:  " Pomohiy  warn  Pan  Boch,"  may  God  help  you; 
to  which  they  replied  in  unison,  interrupting  their  song, 
"  May  God  grant  it."  Thus  they  marched  on,  and  the 
cloud  of  dust  rising  beneath  their  feet,  turned  to  pure 
gold  in  the  young  sunlight. 

The  marching  beeters  and  the  rattling  carts  were  wak 
ing  the  town.  Curling  smoke  rose  above  the  thatched 
roofs,  half  awake  apprentices  began  removing  the  shut 
ters  from  the  shop  windows,  whose  heavy  bars  and  strong 
locks  did  not  indicate  danger  from  burglars;  for  the 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  47 

Slovaks  are  too  honest  and  not  sufficiently  daring  for  that 
form  of  thieving;  but  these  precautions  are  an  index  to 
the  pervading  feeling  of  suspicion  characteristic  of  this 
part  of  Europe.  To  the  man  just  back  from  America  it 
seemed  in  such  striking  contrast  to  that  country,  where 
there  was  more  danger  but  infinitely  less  precaution. 

Peasant  women  were  coming  from  the  neighboring 
villages  bringing  their  surplus  stores  to  market,  the  cut 
of  their  waistcoats  and  the  flowered  pattern  of  their 
calico  skirts  marking  them  as  from  this  village  or  that, 
from  the  mountains  or  the  plains;  while  the  style  of  their 
headcovering  not  only  placed  them  geographically,  but 
distinguished  the  married  women  from  the  maidens.  He 
could  greet  them  as  if  they  were  old  acquaintances. 
"  Yak  sa  mate,  babushka  Hlubutelka."  How  are  you, 
Grandmotherkin  from  Hluba  ?  "  So,  so,  thank  God, 
Mlady  Panka." 

He  began  to  realize  as  they  passed  him  with  their 
friendly  greeting  that  while  his  people  might  be  less 
democratic  than  the  Americans,  they  were,  after  all,  more 
fraternal.  In  spite  of  the  rumble  of  the  now  distant 
carts  and  the  clatter  of  the  women's  boots  with  their  iron 
heels  beating  time  to  their  rhythmic,  swaying  walk,  he 
heard  a  familiar  cough,  and  there  was  Moritz  Redlich, 
going  to  the  distillery,  early  as  always,  to  unlock  the 
office,  talking  to  himself  and  gesticulating  as  usual. 

No  doubt  he  had  much  to  say  to  himself,  for  indeed 
the  world  for  him  was  growing  worse  every  day,  with 
this  building  of  a  brewery  which  his  sons  had  begun 
against  his  wish,  the  organization  of  a  stock  company 
in  which  he  had  no  faith,  and  the  use  of  beet  tops  instead 
of  plums  in  the  making  of  brandy;  and  what  made  his 
world  worse  than  all  these,  his  domestic  unhappiness. 
He  had  nearly  passed  by  the  Pan's  gate  and  had  returned 
Yanek's  greeting  mechanically  when,  struck  by  the  un- 


48        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

familiarity  of  the  voice,  he  turned  involuntarily  and 
looked  into  the  smiling  face  of  Yanek  Hruby. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  fine  morning,"  he  replied  dubiously, 
"but  how  are  things  in  America,  fine?  Of  course  they 
are  fine,"  and  with  that  he  walked  close  to  the  young 
man  and  took  him  by  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  "  See  here, 
Yanek,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  if  there  is  anything  in 
America  which  is  not  fine.  Every  time  I  have  a  letter 
from  my  brothers  they  say  it  is  fine,  even  though  they 
ask  me  to  lend  them  money.  When  a  man  comes  back 
from  over  there  smelling  of  carbolic  acid  like  the  cholera, 
with  his  face  dried  up  like  a  prune  and  you  say  *  How  are 
you?'  he  will  say  'Fine/  I  suppose  over  there  when 
they  hang  a  man,  and  ask  him  how  he  feels,  he  will  say 
'  Fine/  Here  we  all  groan  like  those  carts  and  pull  our 
load  as  reluctantly  as  those  dumb  oxen  pull  theirs." 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  for  indeed  every  mo 
ment  was  precious,  but  removing  his  hand  from  Yanek's 
coat  and  laying  it  on  his  shoulder,  he  continued,  "  When 
you  were  a  boy,  you  were  kind  to  Sophie.  She  told  me 
about  it  last  night.  Come  to  see  us,"  and  with  that  he 
renewed  his  conversation  with  himself,  as  he  walked,  ges 
ticulating,  toward  the  distillery. 

Yanek's  professor  of  Old  Testament  Literature  had 
glorified  for  him  the  Hebrew  race,  and  as  he  saw  it  now 
in  the  light  of  the  heroic  figures  of  the  prophets  of 
Israel,  old  man  Redlich  as  he  passed  on  seemed  to  him 
not  unlike  Jeremiah,  whose  tears  almost  quenched  the 
Divine  fire  burning  within  him. 

He  was  about  to  return  home,  remembering  his  father's 
admonition,  or  perhaps  for  another  reason  more  or  less 
connected  with  prayers  at  the  Pan's  house,  when  he 
caught  a  familiar  odor,  a  mixture  of  sulphur  matches 
and  Turkish  tobacco.  Without  turning  he  knew  who  was 
near;  for  had  he  not  always  gone  to  the  "  Tabac  Traffic3' 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  49 

to  buy  that  same  Turkish  tobacco  for  the  Pan?  It  cost 
twenty-three  heller  a  package,  and  sometimes,  not  often, 
the  Pan  gave  him  twenty-four,  the  extra  one  being  for 
candy.  It  was  indeed  the  Pan  approaching,  smoking 
his  freshly  lighted  Dresdenska.  Yanek  greeted  him  as 
deferentially  as  he  used  to;  for  he  was  naturally  polite 
and  had  never  acquired  the  brusque  manner  which  cer 
tain  Americans  affected.  That  pleased  the  Pan  im 
mensely,  for  "  all  those  Slovaks  come  back  boors,"  he 
used  to  say.  He  also  had  questions  to  ask.  "  Wasn't 
America  so  full  of  people  now  that  the  peasants  could 
stay  at  home  ?  And  did  Yanek  not  think  that  emigration 
was  bad  for  them,  that  it  spoiled  them,  and  wasn't  it 
sugar  beets  which  caused  them  to  leave  home,  and  wasn't 
the  world  growing  worse?"  He  fired  the  questions  at 
him  in  rapid  succession,  like  pistol  shots,  not  even  in 
quiring  after  his  health,  or  replying  to  his  greeting. 

When  to  each  query  he  received  a  polite  and  negative 
reply,  he  emptied  his  pipe  nervously,  knocking  the  pre 
cious  Dresdenska  carefully  against  his  boot  heel  to  empty 
it,  then  filled  it  again. 

When  Yanek,  eager  to  change  the  conversation,  told 
the  Pan  that  he  was  delighted  to  see  him  looking  so 
hale  and  hearty  in  spite  of  his  years,  and  using  the  same 
tobacco  he  used  to  fetch  for  him,  he  replied  curtly  that 
he  was  not  hale  and  hearty,  that  he  had  the  rheumatism, 
and  that  the  tobacco  was  not  the  same;  it  was  poorer  in 
quality;  everything  was  becoming  poorer  and  dearer. 
That  damned  emigration  and  the  sugar  beets  did  it,  and 
the  tobacco  had  a  new  name,  a  Magyar  name,  everything 
was  Magyarized,  even  the  tobacco,  things  were  going 
that  way.  Yes  indeed,  the  world  was  growing  worse ! " 
Then  he  puffed  away  silently  at  his  relighted  pipe. 

He  was  thinking  of  a  letter  he  had  received  from  the 
Minister  of  the  Interior,  in  which  that  dignitary  made 


50        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

him  the  tempting  offer  of  a  baronetcy.  In  consideration 
of  his  contribution  to  the  well  being  of  the  Magyar 
Orszag,  the  Hungarian  Government  wished  to  bestow 
upon  him  the  title  of  Baron.  His  name  was  to  be  slightly 
changed;  the  last  syllable  was  to  be  dropped,  and  he 
would  henceforth  be  Baron  Schenitch. 

Hm !  he  thought;  he  did  not  care  for  a  title,  he  felt 
himself  as  noble  as  any  Baron;  but  then,  there  were  the 
daughters  to  be  considered.  For  their  sake  he  should  like 
to  accept  the  offer.  But  that  last  syllable !  Why,  by  the 
throne  of  the  Almighty,  did  they  want  to  mutilate  his 
name?  Anyway  it  was  time  for  prayers,  and  Christina 
had  sent  him  to  fetch  Yanek  to  join  the  household  in  its 
morning  devotions. 

As  he  walked  beside  the  Pan,  up  the  stone  steps,  past 
the  servants,  past  Martzin  the  stable  boy,  all  of  whom 
stood  respectfully  aside  for  their  superiors,  he  saw  him 
self  in  his  coarse  linen  suit,  smelling  of  the  stable,  stand 
ing  where  the  others  now  stood,  and  his  mind  took  up  the 
thought  which  had  filled  it  that  morning.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  still  uncontrolled  pride  in  his  heart  which  impelled 
him  in  all  humility  to  stretch  out  his  hand  to  the  servants 
he  had  not  yet  greeted.  Involuntarily,  he  took  the  hand 
of  the  little  idiotic  child  who  now  seemed  friendly  and 
led  her  along,  through  the  hallway  and  past  the  kitchen 
with  its  savory  odors.  Then  the  door  of  the  big  room 
opened  and  Christina  came  to  greet  him.  As  he  clasped 
her  hand  and  felt  its  warm  pressure,  and  as  he  looked 
into  her  face,  matured  not  only  by  years  but  by  a  strong 
faith,  and  the  burdens  that  faith  had  brought  upon  her; 
and  as  the  sight  of  her  stirred  no  base  passion  within 
him  but  fanned  to  flame  some  holy  aspiration  in  his  soul, 
the  thought  of  the  Divine  leading  again  took  possession 
of  him. 

Nothing  was  changed  in  that  familiar  room,  the  se- 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  51 

verity  of  its  furnishing  lightened  by  colorful  Slovak 
embroidery.  In  one  corner  stood  the  old  fashioned  piano, 
and  beside  the  large  walnut  table  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  the  Pan's  big  chair.  The  wooden  bench  for  the 
servants  was  by  the  tall  clock  with  its  brass  weights, 
which  were  where  they  always  were  at  this  time  of  day, 
and  on  the  wall  opposite  hung  a  lithograph  picture  of 
Calvin.  The  only  modern  object  in  the  room  was  a  life 
sized  portrait  of  Madam  Szenitzky,  not  as  he  knew  her, 
but  as  she  was  when  she  came,  a  bride,  to  the  Pan's 
domain. 

Yanek  did  not  dare  look  at  Christina  because  opposite 
him  sat  her  younger  sister,  Sonya,  her  face  showing  her 
to  be  the  same  old  mischief.  "  She  should  have  been 
a  boy,"  the  Pan  always  said  with  a  sigh.  When  she  met 
the  young  minister  that  morning  she  tried  to  kiss  his 
hand  in  mock  reverence,  and  when  he  would  not  let  her, 
she  kissed  him  on  the  cheek.  "  For  ministers  have  to  be 
kissed,"  she  said  with  a  roguish  smile,  in  answer  to  her 
father's  stern  rebuke. 

Yanek  looked  at  the  portrait  on  the  wall.  The  fine, 
high  forehead  was  like  Christina's,  who  wore  her  hair 
the  same  way;  the  eyes  were  rather  farther  apart  than 
Christina's,  but  hers  seemed  a  little  larger,  the  nose  and 

mouth He  was  interrupted  in  his  observations  by 

the  Pan's  voice  announcing  the  morning  hymn,  a  quaint, 
slow,  solemn  measure.  Yanek  sang  it  with  them,  for  he 
loved  to  sing,  and  had  a  remarkably  good  tenor  voice. 
The  first  verse,  however,  was  nearly  spoiled  for  them,  for 
he  sang  the  tenor  part,  and  the  servants,  accustomed  to 
singing  the  melody,  tried  to  follow  him  rather  than 
Sonya,  who  always  led  them  in  a  rather  subdued  soprano. 
She  began  to  laugh  as  she  always  did  on  the  slightest 
provocation,  and  the  maids  began  to  giggle;  until  the 
Pan  knocked  on  the  table  with  his  Dresdenska,  which 


52         SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

brought  them  to  order.  When  the  hymn  was  sung,  the 
Pan  took  the  heavy  Bible  from  the  table  and  handed  it 
to  Yanek  without  a  word. 

This  then  was  to  be  the  beginning  of  his  ministry.  He 
bowed  his  head  for  a  moment  before  opening  the  huge 
brass  clasps  of  The  Book,  not  knowing  what  to  read ;  but 
as  it  opened,  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  sixteenth  chapter  of 
Matthew.  The  Pan  seemed  not  to  be  pleased  by  his  read 
ing,  although  he  read  with  feeling  and  insight  into  the 
meaning  of  the  words.  The  Bible,  he  felt,  should  be  read 
like  the  Holy  Book  it  was. 

Marisha  nudged  her  neighbor  and  whispered  "  He  is  a 
Salvesh,"  and  the  maid  whispered  it  with  a  nudge  to 
the  next  one,  and  the  Pan  knocked  on  the  table  again; 
but  not  before  the  word  had  been  passed  around. 

However,  he  began  to  be  interested  as  the  reading 
proceeded  and  even  the  servants  looked  subdued  and 
awed,  when  Yanek  read  about  Jesus  turning  to  the 
tempting  Peter  and  saying  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan." 
Marisha  said  afterwards  that  she  thought  the  devil  was 
in  the  very  same  room,  where  they  were  sitting.  How 
commandingly  and  yet  enticingly  Yanek  read :  "  If  any 
man  would  come  after  me  let  him  deny  himself,  and  take 
up  his  cross  and  follow  me.  For  whosoever  would  save 
his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  whosoever  shall  lose  his  life  for 
my  sake  shall  find  it.  For  what  is  a  man  profited  if  he 
shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  or  what 
shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul?  " 

They  all  stood  to  pray,  and  later  Sonya  reported  to 
Christina  that  their  father  was  all  the  while  turning  his 
Dresdenska  up  and  down,  as  if  he  were  undecided  what 
to  do  next,  and  that  Marisha  was  wiping  her  eyes  as  if 
she  had  been  peeling  onions.  Of  course  she  was  scolded 
by  her  sister  for  looking  around  during  prayers,  and  re 
plied  that  she  "  couldn't  help  it,  His  Reverence  was  so 


THE  PAN'S  DOMAIN  53 

good  to  look  at,  though  evidently  he  did  not  know  how 
to  kiss  a  girl." 

What  pleased  Yanek  most,  as  they  left  the  room,  was 
not  that  the  Pan  told  him  he  would  ask  the  minister  to 
invite  him  to  preach  some  Sunday,  not  that  Marisha 
looked  at  him  more  kindly,  or  that  his  father's  and 
mother's  faces  glowed  with  pride;  not  even  that  Chris 
tina  thanked  him  for  the  prayer.  What  pleased  him  most 
was,  that  the  idiotic  child  took  hold  of  his  hand  and 
passed  out  with  him  and  clung  to  him  until  they  reached 
the  kitchen,  where  her  breakfast  awaited  her. 

After  prayers  the  Pan  restlessly  paced  the  floor  still 
turning  his  Dresdenska  up  and  down;  finally  he  went  to 
his  desk  and  wrote  a  letter.  He  wrote  it  on  one  of  the 
large,  official  looking  sheets  of  paper  which  he  always 
used  when  the  letter  was  of  importance.  This  is  what 
he  wrote : 

"  Your  Excellency, 

I  have  received  your  gracious  letter  offering  me  a 
Baronetcy  in  consideration  of  the  services  I  am  supposed 
to  have  rendered  the  State.  I  have  noticed  that  when  you 
made  that  same  offer  to  rich  Jews,  they  were  asked  to  con 
tribute  to  the  royal  treasury  a  part  of  their  wealth.  Had 
you  asked  me  a  similar  price  I  might  have  been  tempted 
to  accept  your  offer ;  for  I  am  a  vain  and  sinful  man.  But 
you  are  asking  me  for  something  which  seems  to  you  very 
trivial,  the  dropping  of  a  Slavic  suffix  from  my  name,  and 
a  change  in  its  spelling ;  in  short  you  are  asking  me  to  for 
feit  my  historic  inheritance,  to  sell  my  "  birthright  for  a 
mess  of  pottage,"  to  cut  myself  loose  from  my  people  who, 
though  poor  and  ignorant,  are  my  people  nevertheless. 
Permit  me  to  request  your  excellency  to  open  the  Holy 
Bible  at  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Matthew  and  the  twenty- 
sixth  verse  where  you  will  find  my  answer. 

Yours  most  sincerely,  and  as  long  as  I  live, 

Szenitzky." 


54        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

The  last  syllable  was  underscored. 

When  he  showed  the  letter  to  his  children,  Sonya  told 
him  he  was  a  "  horrid  old  bear,"  but  she  would  forgive 
him  for  she  intended  to  get  married  anyway,  and  she 
would  surely  marry  a  Baron,  unless — and  she  smiled  mis 
chievously  at  her  sister — unless  she  married  a  minister. 
Christina  kissed  her  father  on  both  cheeks  and  said: 
"  The  Lord  has  led  you."  When  she  told  Yanek  what 
had  happened,  it  further  confirmed  him  in  his  faith  in 
the  Divine  Providence. 


CHAPTER  FIVE:  PLUM  BRANDY 

THUS  far  the  Redlich  sons  had  spared  the  old  dis 
tillery,  but  all  around  it  new  buildings  had  risen, 
in  quick  succession.  First  the  brewery,  followed  by  the 
malt  house,  a  yeast  factory  and  a  big  engine  room.  Men 
acingly  tall,  they  looked  down  upon  the  original,  small 
gray  structure,  and  it  seemed  to  shrink  daily  as  their 
walls  towered  above  it. 

Moritz  Redlich  shrank  with  it,  for  the  little  place  was 
part  of  him,  and  when  they  pulled  out  the  old  wooden 
vats,  they  were  tearing  at  his  very  heart.  Just  at  this 
time  the  vats  would  have  been  filled  with  the  rich,  blue 
plums,  which  the  peasants  would  shovel  in,  laughing  and 
singing  while  at  their  task.  They  never  watched  Moritz 
Redlich  weigh  the  fruit,  and  when  he  said :  "  Bratre,  you 
have  one  hundred  killo  of  plums/'  they  knew  that  it  was 
a  hundred  and  no  more. 

When  they  came  into  the  office  for  their  pay  he  would 
treat  them  to  his  oldest  and  finest  brandy,  and  they 
would  always  say :  "  Na  Zdrcev  "  and  drink  to  his  health ; 
and  when  they  had  wiped  their  mouths  on  the  backs  of 
their  hands  they  would  smack  their  lips  and  declare  that 
his  slivovitz  was  getting  better  every  year. 

Now  alas!  the  yard  was  crowded  by  foreign  work 
men.  Italians  for  the  stone  work,  Bohemian  bricklayers, 
German  machinists,  and  Slovaks  from  a  distant  comitat 
who  went  about  their  work  sullenly  and  did  not  drink  to 
his  health  when,  midway  between  each  working  period, 
the  brandy  was  passed. 

Just  this  morning  one  of  those  Americanized  Slovaks 
was  haranguing  them  while  they  were  at  their  work.  He 
called  them  stupid  fools,  who  worked  as  underlings  in  a 

56 


56        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

land  where  they  ought  to  be  masters.  "  Over  in  America 
it  is  fine,"  and  he  opened  his  cloth  coat  and  showed  them 
his  gold  watch  and  chain,  and  his  fountain  pen,  and  he 
jingled  the  silver  dollars  in  his  pocket.  "  In  America 
when  the  boss  would  not  pay  me  three  dollars  a  day  I 
told  him  to  go  to  Hell  and  I  walked  off  to  another  job. 

"You  are  a  pack  of  fools!  Who  do  you  think  will 
pay  for  this  brewery  but  you,  who  will  pay  for  those 
copper  stills  and  for  that  big  smokestack,  you  poor 
fools  ?  "  He  threw  away  a  generous  cigar  stump  which 
a  dozen  hands  were  ready  to  pick  up,  and  walked  off. 

Moritz  Redlich  listened  and  shook  his  head  and  talked 
to  himself;  not  because  he  had  anything  to  say  to  himself 
but  because  he  was  trying  to  drive  away  the  thoughts 
which  trooped  through  his  brain  like  wild  horses,  and 
which  he  could  not  control. 

:t  Yes,  it  is  fine  in  America,"  he  was  saying.  "  Look 
at  my  fine  watch,  look  at  my  fine  clothes,  look  at  my 
fountain  pen!  "  His  lips  kept  repeating  the  words  me 
chanically,  while  through  his  brain  ran  the  last  quarrels 
with  his  sons. 

"  Money,"  he  had  said,  "  of  course  you  must  have 
money !  But  whose  money  are  you  getting?  The  money 
of  widows  and  orphans,  and  all  they  get  in  return  is 
pieces  of  colored  paper  which  you  call  stock;  and  sup 
pose  you  can't  compete  with  the  Bohemian  breweries, 
and  suppose  your  yeast  doesn't  keep,  and  suppose  the 
brandy  is  rank,  and  the  peasants  will  not  drink  it,  as  they 
ought  not;  how  will  you  pay  the  money  back?  " 

Of  course  they  told  him  he  was  an  old  fogy  and 
that  all  modern  business  is  done  on  credit.  And  did  not 
they  get  the  best  possible  man  as  chemist  and  manager, 
and  did  they  not  import  a  brewer  from  Bohemia,  and 
were  they  not  as  sure  as  any  one  could  be,  that  they 
would  make  piles  of  money? 


PLUM  BRANDY  57 

"And  what  of  it,  if  you  do  make  the  money?"  and 
the  reply  repeated  itself  a  dozen  times  in  his  mind. 
"  Have  I  not  always  made  enough,  and  did  I  not  always 
make  it  honestly?  Have  you  ever  wanted  for  anything, 
did  I  not  send  you  to  school  and  did  I  not  support  my 
sister's  children,  and  did  I  not  help  my  brothers  in 
America?"  Then  he  began  talking  to  himself  again 
about  how  fine  everything  was  in  America. 

Yet  another  thought  came  and  persisted,  and  he 
repeated  it  again  and  again:  "  I  wish  to  God  I  had  never 
laid  eyes  on  that  chemist.  It  is  he  who  has  put  this  grand 
idea  into  their  heads,  it  is  he  who  is  making  them 
dishonest,  and  who  is — I  shouldn't  say  it — I  know  I 
shouldn't  say  it — it  is  he  who  is  breaking  up  my  home! 
Are  you  blind,  my  boys,  are  you  blind?  " 

Yes,  indeed  they  were  blind;  blind  to  their  father's 
grief.  What  they  saw  was  the  fact  that  they  wanted 
capital,  not  because  they  wanted  money,  but  because 
capital  would  raise  them  into  a  new  class  of  privileged 
citizens.  A  million  crowns  of  capital  and  they  would 
be  manufacturers  on  a  grand  scale,  and  that  would  in 
crease  their  vote  threefold. 

"  Just  think,  father,  what  that  will  mean,  when  it 
comes  to  the  election  of  the  district  judge,  or  of  a  mem 
ber  of  parliament.  Think  of  the  prestige,  the  prestige! 
Some  day,  who  knows,  you  might  receive  a  title,  and 
how  wonderful  that  would  be !  " 

Into  what  a  rage  he  flew,  as  he  shrieked :  "  Title !  Title ! 
A  title,  because  you  have  borrowed  poor  people's  money ! 

A  title  because "  He  tried  to  divert  his  thoughts: 

"  In  America  it  is  fine,"  he  said  to  himself  again,  and  he 
buttoned  and  unbuttoned  his  coat  as  he  saw  the  man 
doing,  who  harangued  the  workers.  But  his  thoughts 
persisted  in  coming  back  and  drowning  his  prattle. 

"  Title !    Title !    Title !    Haven't  I  given  you  a  good 


58        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

name?  Is  there  any  Jew  around  here  who  has  a  better 
name  than  mine?  Am  I  not  respected  because  I  am 
Moritz  Redlich  and  have  made  plum  brandy  in  an  honest 
fashion,  and  have  dealt  honestly  with  my  customers,  and 
have  been  charitable  toward  the  poor? 

"What  do  you  say?  That  they  call  you  Jews  and 
won't  take  you  into  their  Casino  and  won't  let  you  dance 
with  their  women?  Do  you  think  you  would  be  any 
thing  else  to  them  than  Jews  if  you  were  called  Herr 
von  Redlich?  A  title  won't  change  the  shape  of  your 
noses!  A  title  won't  take  the  crook  out  of  your  backs, 
put  there  by  your  honest  ancestors  who  had  to  bear  the 
heavy  burdens  of  the  exile!  Title!  Title!  Title!  "  he 
repeated  and  he  flew  into  a  rage  and  beat  his  desk  so 
that  the  dust  from  it  rose  in  thick  clouds,  and  he  bit  his 
lips  till  he  could  taste  the  sweet,  warm  blood.  When  the 
paroxysm  of  wrath  had  spent  itself  he  began  prattling 
again  about  America.  "  Look  at  my  fine  watch,  and  at 
my  fine  fountain  pen!  Yes,  in  America  it  is  all  fine, 
fine!" 

He  always  coughed  harder  when  he  became  excited, 
but  this  time  it  was  worse  than  ever,  and  long  after  the 
irritation  in  his  throat  had  ceased,  he  was  still  cough 
ing,  for  Herr  Walter  Ritter,  the  chemist  and  manager, 
had  entered  the  office.  The  old  man  did  not  want  to 
see  him,  and  did  not  want  to  talk  to  him.  "  God  knows," 
he  soliloquized,  "I  never  hated  a  single  human  being; 
but  I  hate  that  man.  I  hate  the  very  sight  of  him." 

"  Is  the  Herr  Sandor  in?  "  Herr  Ritter  asked. 

"  No,  he  is  not.     What  do  you  want?  " 

"  The  new  sign  has  come  from  Budapest  and  I  want 
to  consult  with  the  Herr  Sandor  about  putting  it  up." 

"  A  new  sign,  who  has  ordered  a  new  sign  ?  I  did  not 
want  a  new  sign,  the  old  one  is  good  enough,"  and  he 
began  to  cough  again. 


PLUM  BRANDY  59 

Yes,  that  was  one  of  the  things  they  had  quarreled 
about,  he  and  his  sons.  The  old  firm  was  no  more,  and 
now  they  had  ordered  a  sign  to  go  the  whole  length  of 
the  building.  In  huge  gold  letters  it  was  to  be  proclaimed 
to  the  world  that  the  old  firm  of  Moritz  Redlich  was  no 
more,  and  that  the  Hungarian  National  Distilling  and 
Brewing  Company  had  taken  its  place ;  and  the  sign  was 
to  be  in  the  Magyar  language  of  course. 

"  Aber,  Herr  Redlich,  don't  get  excited!  "  Herr  Ritter 
exclaimed.  "  I  shall  wait  till  the  Herr  Sandor  comes 
back." 

How  glad  Moritz  Redlich  was  that  he  went  away,  for 
he  hated  him.  He  hated  his  broad  head,  his  florid  face, 
his  keen,  greenish  gray,  bespectacled  eyes,  his  Berlineze 
German,  the  way  he  rolled  his  r's  in  his  throat,  the  sub 
missive  way  in  which  he  talked  to  his  sons,  his  flatteries 
of  his  wife;  and  now  that  man  came  talking  to  him 
about  a  new  sign  I 

At  last  the  Herr  Sandor  came,  the  president  of  the 
new  company.  If  one  had  met  him  with  other  Hunga 
rians  he  would  not  have  singled  him  out  as  a  Jew;  for 
he  shared  with  his  race  that  peculiar  ability  to  adjust 
himself  to  his  environment.  His  nose  was  not  obtru 
sively  Semitic,  and  his  eyes  though  dark  had  none  of 
the  dreamy  look  of  his  race;  nor  were  they  shrewd;  the 
fire  in  them  was  of  the  love  of  life,  awakened  by  his 
Magyar  associates.  He  had  lived  and  loved  as  they  had, 
he  had  served  a  year  as  officer  volunteer  in  the  army,  and 
walked  erect  although  he  was  naturally  stoop  shouldered. 
His  mustaches  were  carefully  trained,  and  he  dressed 
faultlessly. 

He  had  married  a  wealthy  Jewess,  from  a  home  in 
which  Judaism  was  only  a  memory  and  not  a  pleasant 
one,  and  they  agreed  that  their  home  was  to  be  free  from 
the  yoke  of  the  ritual,  and  that  should  they  have  children 


60        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

they  should  be  shielded  from  the  stigma  of  Judaism. 
They  never  went  to  the  synagogue,  not  even  on  the  great 
holy  days.  The  net  result  was,  that  they  were  socially 
isolated;  for  while  the  Gentile  men  associated  with  him 
and  occasionally  visited  him,  especially  when  there  was 
a  prospect  of  something  good  to  eat,  the  women  never 
called  on  his  wife  or  invited  her  to  their  homes. 

When  he  entered  the  office  the  old  man  was  walking 
up  and  down,  coughing  nervously  and  gesticulating. 
Sandor  was  late,  very  late ;  but  he  had  good  news  for  his 
father.  He  and  Rosa  were  very  happy  over  the  birth  of 
a  boy,  that  morning.  The  old  man  embraced  his  son, 
and  congratulated  him.  His  cough  subsided.  Of  course 
it  was  better  at  such  news.  A  new  Redlich,  his  first 
grandson !  "  May  God  grant  it  will  not  be  the  last !  " 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said,  "  a  week  from  to-day  will  be  the 
circumcision,  and  all  the  relatives  must  be  invited.  I 
am  thankful  to  God  that  I  have  lived  to  see  this  day.  I 
have  had  many  troubles,  but  an  old  man  must  have  them, 
that  is  inevitable;  but  now  I  shall  be  happy  in  the  hap 
piness  of  my  son.  Even  here  in  Hungary  things  are 
'fine*  when  a  grandson  is  born!  Think  of  it,  a  grand 
son  ! "  and  he  rubbed  his  hands,  and  something  like  a 
smile  flitted  across  his  face.  "  It's  fine !  "  he  repeated 
over  and  over  again. 

His  son  did  not  reply  to  his  suggestion  about  the  cir 
cumcision,  for  he  had  something  on  his  mind  which  he 
feared  might  hurt  his  father;  so  he  would  not  tell  him  till 
he  must.  He  went  to  his  desk,  and  opened  his  letters 
while  his  father  continued  rubbing  his  hands  and  say 
ing  how  "  fine  "  it  was  that  he  had  a  grandson.  He  did 
not  disturb  his  son  for  a  while,  then  he  began  to  cough. 
"  Sandor,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  have  been  thinking  that 
I  should  go  to  see  the  Rabbi  and  tell  him  about  it,  and  I 
want  to  send  for  your  Uncle  David  to  come  and  preside 


PLUM  BRANDY  61 

at  the  circumcision.  It  will  please  the  old  man — for  you 
know  to  a  pious  man  that  is  one  of  the  steps  to  Heaven — 
to  make  a  Jew  out  of  a  little  child. 

"And  you  know  whom  I  am  going  to  invite?  Pan 
Yan  Szenitzky  and  the  priest.  They  were  present  at  the 
feast  of  circumcision  when  you  were  a  baby."  He 
laughed.  "  And  when  they  heard  you  squeal,  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky  laughed  and  said :  *  He  has  got  a  grand  voice ; ' 
but  Father  Kalman  didn't  laugh  at  all.  He  said :  *  It 
hurts  to  be  a  Jew,  and  it  hurts  from  the  beginning  to  the 
end,'  and  then  he  shook  his  head.  You  see  I  will  have  to 
invite  them.  I  know  Rosa  won't  object  and  neither  will 
you.  You  like  the  Goyim." 

Sandor  had  dropped  the  letters,  and  in  a  voice  which 
was  both  tender  and  tense  he  said :  "  Father  dear,  that  boy 
of  mine  is  going  to  escape  the  pain  that  Father  Kalman 
spoke  of,  and  the  whole  of  it,  if  I  can  manage  it.  I  w£s 
going  to  tell  you  that  our  boy  is  not  going  to  be  circum 
cised." 

If  the  distillery  had  fallen  in  at  that  moment  or  the 
new  smokestack  tumbled  down  upon  the  old  man,  the 
weight  that  struck  him  could  not  have  been  heavier.  He 
could  not  get  his  breath  at  first,  his  face  grew  purple,  he 
tried  to  speak,  but  he  was  not  saying  anything,  although 
his  tongue  involuntarily  moistened  his  dry  lips.  At  last 
words  came  out  of  his  contracted  throat.  "  You  say  that 
you  will  not  have  my  grandson  circumcised  ? — the  grand 
son  of  Moritz  Redlich?  The  son  of  a  Jew  not  circum 
cised,  the  grandson  of  Moritz  Redlich?  "  He  could  but 
repeat  it  over  and  over  again. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  spared  you  this  pain,  father," 
his  son  said,  coming  to  him  and  putting  his  arm  around 
his  neck;  "  but  Rosa  and  I  have  agreed  that  we  shall  try 
to  save  our  children  from  the  stigma  of  being  Jews.  We 
are  not  Jews  in  our  hearts,  and  what  is  the  use  of  going 


62        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

through  that  cruel  form  which  hurts  the  child,  and  can  do 
it  no  earthly  good  ?  We  thought  that  as  you  are  so  broad 

minded Don't,  father  dear,  don't  carry  on  so !  One 

would  think  that  a  great  calamity  had  come  upon  us, 
the  way  you  act!" 

Moritz  Redlich  was  wringing  his  hands,  sobbing,  and 
coughing.  "  I  know,  I  know  it  is  my  fault !  I  haven't 
been  strict  enough  in  your  bringing  up!  I  deserve  it 
all !  "  he  wailed  between  his  sobs.  "  I  am  not  thinking 
of  myself,  I  am  thinking  of  the  dead,  I  am  thinking  of 
your  pious  mother,  of  Gittele,  my  selig  wife,  my  golden 
wife!  I  shall  soon  go  over  the  bridge  to  meet  her,  and 
what  will  she  say  to  me?  Gittele,  my  golden  wife,  this 
would  not  have  happened  if  you  had  lived! "  and  he  col 
lapsed  in  his  chair. 

Recovering  himself  after  a  while  he  wiped  his  eyes 
and  blew  his  nose  repeatedly.  Then,  as  calmly  as  he 
could,  he  asked :  "  And  what  are  you  going  to  make  out 
of  that  little  Yehude,  what  kind  of  Christian?  Are  you 
going  to  take  him  to  the  big  church  on  the  market  place, 
carry  your  child  out  through  the  streets  to  have  him 
baptized?  And  what  of  the  child  after  that? 

"  Do  you  believe  that  sparing  him  the  pain  of  circum 
cision  will  save  him  from  being  called  a  Jew?  Will  he 
look  less  like  a  Jew,  act  less  like  one,  because  you  have 
spared  his  foreskin?  What  about  his  kin,  his  own  flesh 
and  blood  ?  I  suppose  when  the  boys  tell  him :  '  There 
goes  Moritz  Redlich,  your  grandfather,'  he  will  deny  me, 
he  will  run  away  from  me  as  if  I  had  the  plague. 

"If  you  or  Rosa  had  in  your  hearts  the  religion  of 
Father  Kalman,  or  of  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky,  and  you  could 
make  of  him  a  real,  honest,  pious  Christian,  I  would  say, 
though  it  broke  my  heart,  go  ahead,  do  it.  But  you  have 
no  God  in  your  heart  or  in  your  home.  All  you  are 
thinking  about  is  the  big  plant  and  where  to  get  money 


PLUM  BRANDY  63 

to  build  it  bigger,  so  that  some  day  you  may  get  a  title. 
Aha,  I  see  now,  I  see  now,"  and  he  laughed,  though  it 
was  more  like  a  cry  of  anguish.  "  You  want  that  title. 
You  think  that  the  Herr  Minister  will  say :  *  There  is 
Sandor  Redlich,  he  is  not  only  rich  and  the  president  of 
a  great  corporation;  but  he  is  bringing  up  his  son  in  the 
Christian  faith;  we  will  give  him  a  title/  It's  the  title! 
The  title!" 

"You  are  mistaken,  father.  We  are  not  going  to 
have  him  baptized,  not  yet.  However,  we  are  going  to 
have  a  feast  to  celebrate  his  birth,  but,  father  dear,  there 
will  be  no  circumcision/' 

Moritz  Redlich  left  the  office  gasping  for  air.  He  must 
go  out  and  away;  but  where  could  he  go ?  He  was  suffo 
cating,  and  the  walls  of  the  room  seemed  to  come  nearer 
and  nearer,  to  crush  him.  He  thought  he  might  get 
some  comfort  by  going  out  into  the  distillery  and  looking 
at  the  old  still,  at  the  barrels  with  his  name  burned  into 
them.  He  fondled  them  with  a  trembling  hand ;  there  it 
still  was :  Moritz  Redlich,  Slivovitz,  Hraszova,  Hungary, 
— that  was  his  at  any  rate — part  of  him. 

But  they  were  hammering  against  the  stone  walls  of 
that  very  building.  "  They  are  tearing  it  to  pieces,  the 
fiends!  They  must  not!  Halt!"  he  cried.  "Halt! 
Halt!  "  What  were  those  vandals  doing?  He  ran  out 
through  the  big  gate  to  the  front  of  the  building.  They 
were  doing  it!  They  had  done  it!  They  were  taking 
down  the  old  sign!  They  were  lifting  it  from  the  hooks 
he  had  driven  in  there  forty  years  ago  or  more !  There 
stood  Herr  Ritter  and  the  workmen,  putting  a  rope 
around  it  and  pulling  it  down!  It  was  dangling  in  the 
air,  it  was  hanging  by  a  rope,  a  part  of  himself !  Moritz 
Redlich  hanging  by  a  rope ! 


CHAPTER  SIX:  LOVE  ONE! 

"TT^VERY  place  is  good  but  home  is  the  best." 

iij  "  Yes,  Mamushka,  it  is  so,"  he  replied  when  she 
repeated  the  old  Slovak  proverb,  watching  him  as  he  ate 
his  frugal  breakfast,  which  consisted  of  coffee  and  white 
rolls,  "as  if  it  were  Sunday." 

"  When  you  were  a  little  boy,  Yanetchku,  you  would 
put  those  horns  on  your  head  and  you  would  run  at  me 
and  say,  '  Mu,  mu,'  and  try  to  frighten  me." 

"Yes,  Mamushka,"  he  replied,  thinking  her  very 
thoughts.  Everything  brought  back  the  memories  of 
his  youth,  even  the  taste  of  the  weak  brew  of  chickory 
which  went  by  the  name  of  coffee,  and  the  rolls  of  which 
there  were  three  kinds,  Semle,  Veklc  and  Rohitchky.  It 
was  the  Rohitchky,  the  little  horns  he  liked  the  best,  and 
that  kind  his  mother  had  got  for  him. 

"And  then,"  she  continued,  "you  would  always  un 
wind  the  crust  until  it  looked  like  a  long  golden  curl,  and 
you  used  to  say,  '  That  looks  like  Christina's  curl/  and 
you  would  eat  it  this  way."  And  she  showed  him  just 
how  he  did  when  he  was  a  little  boy.  Yes,  he  was 
thinking  about  that  too,  only  strange  to  say  the  curls  he 
saw  to-day  were  not  golden  but  black. 

"  Her  heart  is  as  golden  as  her  curls,"  his  mother 
prattled  on,  sipping  her  coffee,  yet  looking  over  the  cup 
at  her  son.  "  It  is  Mlada  Panka  Christina  here,  and 
Mlada  Panka  Christina  there.  She  is  like  her  mother, 
God  rest  her  soul.  What  a  saint  she  was !  Tak,  tak!  we 
all  must  go,  but  God  takes  the  best  first;  the  hard,  sour 
apples  stay  longest  on  the  tree." 

"  No,  Mamushka,  that  isn't  so.  He  has  left  you,  and 

64 


LOVE  ONE!  65 

you  are  not  a  hard,  sour  apple;"  and  then  he  gave  her  a 
big  kiss.  You  are  as  sweet,  Mamushka,  as  the  big,  yel 
low,  golden  apples  Babushka  used  to  give  me  when  I  an 
swered  her  questions  out  of  the  catechism.  Tell  me, 
dearest,  after  whom  does  Sonya  take?" 

"  God  knows,  my  son,  perhaps  after  her  father  who, 
and  the  Pan  will  forgive  me,  was  the  very  devil  when 
he  was  a  young  man.  When  he  came  into  the  kitchen,  all 
the  maids  ran  either  from  him  or  to  him." 

" Mamushka,  dear,  where  did  you  run?"  he  asked 
laughing  at  his  little  joke;  and  she  slapped  his  mouth 
playfully  and  pretended  to  be  hurt,  but  she  did  not  an 
swer  his  question. 

After  breakfast  he  was  going  to  see  the  schoolmaster; 
but  his  married  sister  came  from  a  neighboring  village 
bringing  her  whole  family,  and  there  was  much  embrac 
ing  and  kissing,  and  they  all  insisted  on  kissing  him  right 
square  on  his  lips,  which  he  did  not  relish  in  the  least, 
especially  as  his  brother-in-law  had  taken  his  morning 
Palenka,  and  besides  that,  there  was  garlic  on  his  breath. 
Yanek  having  been  educated  in  a  hygienically  unemo 
tional  atmosphere,  and  having  taken  part  in  a  debate  in 
which  they  discussed  individual  communion  cups  versus 
the  common  cup,  tried  to  avoid  the  osculatory  demon 
strations.  His  relatives  took  his  caution  for  pride,  and 
the  first  meeting  with  them  was  not  very  auspicious. 

This  was  the  time  to  unpack  the  presents.  He  had  a 
fountain  pen  for  his  older  nephew,  who  told  him  frankly 
that  he  had  hoped  he  would  bring  him  a  revolver,  and 
the  picture  book  he  gave  the  younger  one  was  equally 
unwelcome,  as  he  had  expected  a  watch.  Fortunately, 
little  Theresa  was  highly  pleased  with  her  ring,  which  of 
course  she  must  run  out  and  show  to  all  the  children, 
and  which  she  promptly  lost  on  the  way.  Then  there 
was  heavy  punishment  meted  out,  and  much  weeping  and 


66        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

wailing  and  confusion,  in  trying  to  find  the  lost  trinket. 
When  quiet  was  restored,  he  had  to  listen  to  his  sister's 
complaints  about  her  husband.  He  was  too  rough  with 
the  children,  and  he  drank  too  much,  and  who  knew  but 
what  they  too  would  have  to  sell  their  land  and  go  to 
America  ?  "  But  Chlava  Bohu,"  praise  God,  "  the  chil 
dren  are  well  and  so  smart,  and  maybe,  if  God  wills,  I 
need  not  bear  a  child  this  year." 

His  brother-in-law  wanted  to  know  if  it  was  true  that 
in  some  places  in  America  one  couldn't  buy  any  liquor, 
and  whether  people  really  could  be  healthy  drinking 
only  water,  and  whether  they  didn't  catch  cold  in  their 
stomachs. 

Then  his  Uncle  Petrushko  came,  greatly  aged,  crippled 
by  rheumatism  and  hobbling  on  a  cane;  ignorant  of 
letters  but  wise  with  the  wisdom  of  the  humble.  Yanek 
used  to  go  to  him  on  Sunday  afternoons  to  read  to  him 
out  of  his  first  schoolbooks,  and  he  tried  to  explain 
what  he  did  not  quite  understand  himself:  how  if  the 
earth  was  round,  the  people  beneath  us,  over  there  in 
America,  could  walk  on  their  heads.  Uncle  Petrushko 
inquired  after  the  condition  of  his  countrymen  over  there 
"  Za  More"  across  the  sea.  He  had  heard  wonderful 
things.  How  they  were  permitted  to  form  a  big  Na 
tional  Society,  and  how  those  Slovaks  printed  news 
papers  and  books  and  were  planning  to  liberate  their 
oppressed  countrymen  from  the  Magyar  yoke.  Would 
Yanek  not  come  to  his  isba  and  read  to  him  as  he  used 
to,  and  tell  him  all  about  it?  His  neighbors  who  had 
come  back  from  America  seemed  only  to  know  that  you 
could  say  "damn  it"  to  anybody  you  pleased,. and  how 
cheap  the  meat  was,  and  how  they  bought  their  beer  by 
the  barrel  and  that  if  you  wanted  to  get  a  drink  on  Sun 
day,  you  had  to  go  to  the  back  door,  and  that  when  you 
drank  too  much  you  were  likely  to  be  arrested. 


LOVE  ONE!  67 

Yanek  was  heartily  glad  to  see  Babushka  Theresa  who 
came  in,  after  dinner,  driving  in  her  queer  yellow  cart. 
She  was  everybody's  Babushka,  although  she  was  re 
lated  to  no  one  except  the  Pan,  and  that  distantly.  She 
had  never  emancipated  herself  from  her  picturesque 
Slovak  clothes,  and  she  preferred  to  be  called  Babushka 
rather  than  Panyi  Velcomoshna,  to  which  she  was  entitled 
by  virtue  of  her  wealth.  It  was  she  who  gave  Yanek 
the  sweet,  golden  apple  for  knowing  his  catechism,  and 
he  told  her  he  remembered  that  once  when  he  had  the 
measles,  she  brought  him  an  orange,  the  first  he  had  ever 
eaten.  In  America  he  thought  of  her  every  time  he  ate 
one,  which  was  very  often;  for  he  had  one  for  breakfast 
nearly  every  morning. 

It  was  the  Babushka  who  used  to  talk  to  him  about  the 
Lord  Jesus,  not  as  the  minister  talked,  as  if  He  were  far 
away,  over  in  Palestine  or  in  Heaven  on  the  right  hand 
of  the  Father;  but  as  if  He  were  right  there  in  the  room 
with  them.  The  very  way  in  which  she  spoke  His  name, 
"Pan  Jeshzitshek"  was  endearing  and  winning;  while 
when  the  minister,  in  his  pompous  way  and  with  his 
pulpit  drawl,  talked  of  the  "  Pan  Jesu  Christus  "  he  could 
think  of  nothing  but  the  awful  Day  of  Judgment! 

Yes,  indeed  the  Babushka  was  on  intimate  terms  with 
the  Lord,  and  one  day  she  looked  straight  into  his  face 
and  asked:  "  Do  you  love  the  Pan  Jeshzitshek? "  And 
then  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  head  and  said :  "  If  you 
will  love  Him  and  follow  Him  you  will  be  one  of  His 
disciples,  and  a  great  blessing  to  the  people." 

Now  she  had  only  one  tooth  left,  her  head  shook  from 
palsy,  and  her  face  was  all  wrinkled,  but  it  was  illumined 
by  a  holy  light. 

"  I  have  prayed  for  you  every  day,"  she  said,  "  and 
I  have  asked  two  things  for  you.  One  of  them  has  been 
granted,  the  other  I  know  will  be." 


68        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

He  had  remembered  Babushka's  sweet  apples  and  the 
orange  she  brought  him  when  he  had  the  measles,  but 
he  had  forgotten  her  ardent  faith ;  and  did  not  know  that 
his  people  were  supremely  religious,  that  they  were 
drinking  from  the  same  spiritual  fountain  from  which 
he  had  been  drinking,  and  that  it  was  not  discovered  in 
America. 

The  Hussites  had  come  from  Bohemia  into  the  Car 
pathian  mountains,  fleeing  from  their  persecutors  and  had 
found  safe  shelter  among  their  racial  kinsmen;  the  faith 
of  Luther  and  Calvin  spread  there  with  greater  rapidity 
than  in  Germany,  and  in  this  very  place  men  had  died 
as  martyrs  for  their  faith.  Roman  Catholics  never  be 
came  narrow  and  bigoted,  and  Protestant  and  Catho 
lics  had  learned  to  live  side  by  side  without  the  bitter 
ness  and  rancor  seldom  absent,  even  in  his  free  America. 
When  the  faith  of  the  Fathers  grew  sterile  there  were 
always  seekers  after  God,  such  as  Babushka,  who  met 
together  for  prayer  and  for  a  free  expression  of  their 
religious  ideas.  Yanek  was  astonished  to  find  that  Ba 
bushka  had  read  the  sermons  of  Spurgeon  and  Moody, 
and  that  she  kept  herself  in  touch  with  the  evangelistic 
movements  of  England  and  Germany.  Yanek  was  listen 
ing  to  her  in  a  half  hearted  way  for  which  he  reproached 
himself.  He  was  impatient  to  see  his  beloved  school 
master. 

At  last  the  relatives  took  their  departure,  and  Babushka, 
under  protest,  permitted  him  to  help  her  into  the  yellow 
cart,  and  he  could  slip  away.  Even  then,  however,  his 
progress  was  not  easy;  for  he  was  stopped  by  Sonya 
calling  to  him  from  her  window.  She  wanted  to  ask  him 
a  number  of  questions. 

"  Was  it  true  that  the  American  girls  proposed  to  the 
men,  and  did  one  ever  propose  to  him?  The  Fraulein 
said  they  did.  so  of  course  it  must  be  true;  and  were  the 


LOVE  ONE!  69 

American  girls  as  pretty  as  the  Slovak  girls,  and  were 
the  stores  really  so  big  that  one  could  get  lost  in  them, 
and  above  all,  could  he  play  tennis  and  would  he  play 
with  her?  Tennis  was  all  the  rage,  and  she  had  learned 
how  to  keep  tally.  Was  it  not  beautiful  the  way  they 
counted?  Lofe  feefteen,  lofe  tirty,  lofe  forty?  " 

Why  was  it  impossible  for  him  to  look  into  her  face 
when  he  answered  her  questions  ?  Was  it  a  sense  of  guilt, 
was  it  the  stirring  of  passion  within  him?  Was  it  the 
thought  of  Christina  to  whom  he  made  love  in  the  pigeon 
loft  when  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age? 

Certainly  he  could  play  tennis,  and  he  would  play  with 
her  if  she  wanted  him  to,  he  replied,  and  summoning  all 
his  courage,  he  looked  boldly  into  her  eyes. 

"  But  remember,"  she  said,  shaking  her  finger  at  him, 
"  you  have  to  play  well,  else  I  can't  introduce  you  at  the 
Club." 

He  did  not  quite  catch  the  full  meaning  of  that  until 
she  had  closed  the  window.  Then  he  regretted  having 
promised  to  play,  for  he  realized  that  it  was  only  as  the 
good  tennis  player  that  he  could  be  introduced  at  the 
Athletic  Club,  and  not  as  Yanek  Hruby,  the  son  of  a 
coachman.  He  was,  after  all,  just  a  man,  stirred  by  the 
sight  of  black  eyes  and  flattered  by  a  pretty  girl's  invita 
tion  to  play  tennis,  and  he  did  not  hold  his  head  quite  so 
high  as  he  walked  up  the  street  toward  the  schoolmaster's 
lodgings. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN:  THE  SCHOOLMASTER 

THERE  were  two  of  nearly  everything  in  Hraszova. 
Two  apothecaries,  two  inns,  two  casinos,  two  mid- 
wives  and  two  doctors.  When  a  Slovak  did  not  surren 
der  to  the  Magyars,  change  the  spelling  of  his  name  or 
announce  his  wares  in  the  language  of  his  rulers,  he  had 
competition.  It  was  not  a  matter  of  cheaper  or  dearer, 
of  better  or  worse;  it  was  a  matter  of  patriotism  or 
policy  (and  so  often  the  two  are  identical),  to  buy  your 
drugs  or  drink  your  wine,  or  play  your  cards  or  be  ush 
ered  into  the  world,  or  kept  from  an  untimely  death,  in 
the  socially  and  officially  sanctioned  way. 

It  did  not  matter  much  to  the  Magyars  that  a  purveyor 
of  goods  or  a  guardian  of  health  or  what  not,  was  a  Jew, 
so  long  as  he  had  changed  Cohn  into  Kohany,  or  Weiss 
into  Feher,  or  Klein  into  Kish.  The  right  spelling  of  a 
name  covered  a  multitude  of  sins,  and  in  so  many  cases 
there  were  multitudes  to  cover.  Nationalism  encouraged 
hypocrisy  on  a  grander  scale  than  perhaps  religion  ever 
had.  To  pretend  to  be  religious  was  no  longer  profitable; 
to  shout  "  Ely  en  a  Magyar  "  was  more  effective  than  to 
repeat  a  thousand  "  Hail  Mary's "  and  not  so  repug 
nant.  As  a  consequence,  the  rich  Jews  waxed  their  mus 
taches  a  la  Magyar,  drank  their  wine  out  of  glasses  dec 
orated  in  red,  white  and  green,  danced  Czardas  and  hired 
the  Gypsies  to  serenade  their  sweethearts  and  friends  on 
their  birthdays. 

Dr.  Makutchky  was  the  physician  of  the  Slovaks  and 
the  poorer  Jews,  and  everybody  else  who  was  seriously 
ill.  When  the  Judge  or  the  Baron  had  a  headache  after 
a  too  lengthy  session  at  the  inn,  and  needed  something 

70 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  71 

to  stir  their  sluggish  livers,  they  sent  for  Dr.  Lonyai, 
whose  ancestors  once  ministered  to  Jehovah  and  answered 
to  the  name  of  Cohn.  When  Dr.  Lonyai's  pills  did  not 
have  the  desired  effect  and  his  patients  were  threatened 
or  thought  they  were  threatened  by  apoplexy,  it  was  Dr. 
Makutchky  who  was  summoned,  and  he  usually  gave 
them  emetics  and  purgatives  enough  to  make  them  for 
swear  wine,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  in  all  their  seductive 
forms,  for  at  least  a  fortnight. 

Dr.  Lonyai  was  a  cadaverous,  suave,  smiling,  insignifi 
cant  individual.  The  number  of  Egyptian  cigarettes  he 
consumed  may  have  given  him  his  mumified  appearance; 
for  he  was  always  either  smoking  or  rolling  one.  He 
was  the  self-appointed,  official  tattler  of  the  town,  which 
made  him  a  favorite  among  certain  women.  He  told  the 
rich  Jewesses  how  the  Baroness  discovered  that  her  chil 
dren's  governess  was  her  husband's  mistress,  and  he  told 
it  with  all  the  fine  nuances  of  a  connoisseur  in  scandals. 
In  Magyar  circles  he  made  sport  of  the  shortcomings  of 
his  Jewish  patients,  wherever  such  stories  were  appre 
ciated.  He  was  neither  trusted  nor  loved;  yet  wel 
comed,  and  called  for  minor  ailments  and  ennui,  and 
he  relieved  both.  He  had  been  in  Hraszova  only  .a  few 
years,  haying  come  there  directly  from  the  University, 
had  prospered  because  his  name  was  not  Cohn,  and  was 
now  looking  for  a  wife  with  a  generous  dowry. 

Dr.  Makutchky  was  a  typical  Slovak.  Ethnolo 
gists  will  object  to  this  statement  because  they  say  there 
is  never  a  typical  anything,  that  type  is  something  we  im 
agine;  but  exceptions  prove  the  rule.  If  we  imagine  the 
typical  Slav  to  have  a  broad  skull  measuring  eighty-two 
centimeters  in  width,  in  proportion  to  an  imaginary  one 
hundred  in  length,  and  small  deeply  set  brown  eyes,  far 
apart;  if  his  face  is  rather  broad,  with  the  cheek  bones 
slightly  protruding,  and  if  he  has  such  a  luxurious 


72        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

growth  of  beard  that  his  small  nose  has  to  struggle  hard 
to  be  seen — then  he  is  a  typical  Slav,  ethnologists  or 
no  ethnologists. 

As  has  been  said  there  were  two  of  nearly  everything 
in  Hraszova  except  schoolmasters,  and  of  these  there 
were  three  ;t  for  Roman  Catholic,  Protestant  and  Jewish 
children  learned  their  alphabets  and  their  multiplication 
tables  under  the  strict  supervision  of  their  respective 
churches.  When  Yanek  Hruby  began  going  to  school, 
the  Protestant  teacher  was  noted  for  the  redness  of  his 
bandana  handkerchief,  the  thickness  of  his  Spanish  grape 
switch,  and  the  ugliness  of  his  temper.  Fortunately  for 
that  whole  generation  of  school  children,  during  Yanek's 
first  year,  the  handkerchief,  the  grape  switch  and  the 
teacher's  temper  combined  in  bringing  about  an  apoplectic 
stroke,  which  ended  his  career  and  brought  the  new 
schoolmaster. 

Yanek  Hruby  could  not  be  trusted  to  tell  of  the  share 
he  had  in  precipitating  this  benevolent  catastrophe,  for 
he  was  afflicted  by  a  sensitive  conscience,  which  made  him 
magnify  his  own  guilt.  The  truth  was,  that  the  ban 
dana,  into  which  the  teacher  blew  those  terrific  blasts 
which  signified  the  rising  of  his  temper,  was  loaded  with 
red  pepper  on  that  particular  morning.  Yanek  had  noth 
ing  to  do  with  placing  the  paprika.  His  guilt  consisted 
in  soaking  the  grape  switch  in  vinegar  which,  according 
to  schoolroom  traditions,  would  make  it  so  brittle  that 
at  the  first  stroke  it  would  break.  The  switch  broke. 
Whether  because  of  the  vinegar  or  because  of  the  ex 
cessive  vigor  with  which  it  was  wielded  will  not  be 
revealed  till  the  Day  of  Judgment,  but  till  that  day, 
Yanek  will  accuse  himself  of  having  had  a  share,  if  not 
the  chief  share  in  the  death  of  the  tyrant.  However,  he 
with  the  other  children  enjoyed  their  holiday  on  the  day 
of  the  funeral,  and  the  minister  delivered  an  eloquent 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  73 

eulogy  in  which  there  was  one  outstanding  truth,  namely, 
that  "  the  teacher  died  in  the  exercise  of  his  duty."  When 
his  successor  came,  it  marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  era. 

The  schoolmaster  was  in  bed  when  Yanek  called,  and 
the  doctor  was  there,  walking  up  and  down  the  room, 
talking  in  his  quick,  explosive,  Slovak  way,  in  that  lan 
guage  which  has  retained  those  elemental  sounds  with 
which  our  remote  ancestors  began  to  imitate  the  lan 
guage  of  nature.  A  succession  of  consonants  and  harsh 
gutturals,  with  here  and  there  a  vowel,  usually  long" 
sustained,  as  if  the  speaker  wished  to  make  the  most  of 
it,  not  knowing  when  he  would  have  a  chance  at  another 
one.  If  it  is  true  that  the  Slavs  are  great  linguists,  it 
may  be  due  to  the  fact  that  their  language  calls  into  play 
every  organ  which  can  create  sound,  so  that  the  linguistic 
apparatus  is  well  trained. 

'  You  lie  still  and  keep  your  mouth  shut,  or  I  will 
give  you  this  glass  cigarette  to  suck  until  your  visitor  is 
gone,"  said  the  doctor,  shaking  the  thermometer  before 
his  patient's  face  and  at  the  same  time  gently  pulling  the 
coverlet  over  his  emaciated  hands. 

"  Don't  mind  the  old  grizzly  bear  Yanek,  my  boy," 
said  the  schoolmaster  in  a  whisper.  "  I  am  glad  to  see 
you,"  and  he  attempted  to  shake  his  hand,  without 
drawing  his  own  from  under  the  covers.  "He  is  trying 
to  make  me  believe  that  I  am  a  sick  man,  when  I  have 
only  a  bad  cold." 

"Bad  cold!"  the  doctor  ejaculated,  "bad  cold!  I 
wish  the  Chief  Justice  had  just  such  a  cold  as  you  have. 
We  would  have  a  vacancy  on  the  bench  in  six  weeks  if 
he  were  where  you  are.  I  will  give  you  only  four  weeks 
unless  I  can  get  you  out  of  this  beastly  hole,  and  you 
behave  better."  He  resumed  his  walking  up  and  down 
the  room  and  finally,  stopping  in  front  of  one  of  the  two 
small  windows,  he  shook  his  fist  at  it,  crying :  "  Look  at 


74        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

it!     I  couldn't  stick  my  head  through  it!     It  is  just  big 
enough  to  let  you  know  that  it  is  daylight !  " 

"  He  couldn't  stick  his  head  through  a  barn  door/' 
said  the  teacher  in  a  stage  whisper,  ducking  under  the 
covers.  When  the  doctor  turned  angrily  around  he 
pointed  at  Yanek  as  the  guilty  one. 

"  This  is  no  joke/'  the  doctor  said  tartly.  "  Your 
prison  couldn't  have  been  worse/' 

Yanek  suggested  timidly,  that  in  America  they  cured 
this  disease  by  putting  the  patient  into  a  tent. 

"Tents!"  the  doctor  ejaculated.  "I  know  all  about 
them.  Tents  indeed!  If  I  should  suggest  that  to  my 
learned  patient,  who,  by  the  way,  is  a  great  ignoramus 
in  some  things,  he  would  say:  'and  what  about  the 
night  air?'  Ugh!  What  about  the  night  air!  His 
ancestors  saw  spooks  at  night,  so  he  is  afraid  of  the 
night  air.  Keep  the  spooks  out  and  swallow  germs  by 
the  bushel !  "  Turning  to  the  window  again,  he  gave 
vent  to  his  indignation.  "  The  State,  Magyar  Orszag, 
a  civilized  State  pouncing  on  a  helpless  individual !  Not 
satisfied  by  putting  him  into  a  filthy  prison,  when  he  is 
released,  they  bar  him  from  his  home  and  put  him  into 
this  vile  hole !  They  want  to  murder  him,  because  " — 
and  he  laughed  grimly — "because  he  taught  little 
Slovak  children  that  two  times  two  are  four,  in  Slovak. 
The  National  State,  that  abomination  of  abominations, 
enforcing  culture  with  the  butt  of  the  gun ! " 

"  The  Magyars " 

"Of  course,  you  say  the  Magyars!"  He  turned 
fiercely  on  the  schoolmaster  who  had  uttered  the  word. 
"The  Germans  are  no  better;  if  anything  they  are  the 
masters  in  building  that  structure,  that  combination  of 
gallows  and  university,  the  Kultur  of  the  Strcng  Ver- 
1}0  ten. 

"  We  Slavs  are  no  better,  and  we  are  clumsier  at  it. 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  75 

Your  Mother  Russia,  as  )&eu  call  it,"  and  with  that  he 
carried  out  his  threat  and  put  the  thermometer  into  the 
schoolmaster's  mouth,  although  he  himself  was  doing  the 
talking.  He  held  his  big  fingers  on  the  throbbing  pulse 
of  his  patient,  and  continued :  "  Your  Mother  Russia, 
is  she  any  better?  See  what  she  has  done  to  the  Poles, 
and  the  Poles,  are  they  any  better  ?  They  sit  tight  on  the 
Ruthenians.  It's  the  same  thing  all  through,  it's  the 
National  State  that  is  the  curse  of  it,  and  you  are  its 
victim."  He  took  the  thermometer,  examined  it,  shook 
it  with  an  angry  gesture  and  dropped  it  into  a  glass  of 
water,  as  if  it  were  the  guilty  National  State  he  was 
drowning. 

"  I  am  going  to  get  you  out  of  this  stinking  hole  the 
very  first  thing,"  he  continued,  "  so  that  you  may  get  well 
and  sacrifice  yourself  again  upon  the  altar  of  your 
country;  but  remember,  you  will  destroy  one  monster 
only  to  create  another.  Remember  that." 

As  if  to  discourage  a  reply  he  started  toward  the  door, 
pushing  his  hand  through  his  upstanding,  rebellious  hair. 
"  Your  visitor,"  he  flung  back,  "  may  stay  till  Christina 
comes,  and  when  she  comes  he  may  stay  as  long  as  he 
wants  to,  for  then  he  will  be  harmless.  By  the  way," 
he  turned  to  Yanek,  "  have  you  a  revolver  ?  I  see  you 
have  a  fountain  pen,  like  all  the  Americans.  Shoot  him 
if  he  talks,"  and  shaking  his  fist  at  the  offending  window, 
he  edged  his  way  through  the  low,  narrow  door,  and 
left  them. 

When  he  was  gone  the  schoolmaster's  hand  stole  from 
under  the  cover.  Yanek  grasped  it  and  so,  clinging  to 
each  other,  they  sat  silently,  while  a  ray  of  the  afternoon 
sun  stealing  in  through  the  tiny  window  lighted  the 
little  room,  and  circled  around  the  head  of  the  sick  man, 
like  a  halo. 

If  Dr.  Makutchky  was  a  typical  Slav,  Pan  Martin 


76        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Miklos,  the  teacher,  was  not  a  Slav  at  all.  His  was  the 
head  of  a  Lombard,  such  as  Leonardo  da  Vinci  might 
have  used  for  his  model  when  he  painted  the  disciple 
John  in  the  "  Last  Supper."  The  wasting  disease  made 
his  head  appear  longer,  and  the  pallor  of  his  face  gave 
added  brilliancy  to  the  eyes,  which  Yanek  thought  were 
like  the  glass  disk  of  a  furnace,  revealing  the  glow 
within. 

At  length  the  schoolmaster  broke  the  silence.  "  Don't 
mind  the  doctor,"  he  said,  "he  is  one  of  God's  wild 
men.  Yes,  I  know  I  mustn't  talk,  but  you  won't  shoot 
me,  will  you  ?  " 

Yanek  had  taken  from  the  table  a  large  bound  volume 
of  illustrated  magazines,  and  he  soon  discovered  that 
it  was  one  of  his  old  friends,  one  of  the  volumes  he  had 
devoured  in  his  book  hungry  days.  Every  picture  was 
familiar,  he  even  remembered  the  stories,  the  novels 
which  had  stirred  his  imagination,  the  familiar  heroines 
with  whom  he  had  fallen  in  love.  He  found  the  picture 
which  had  always  reminded  him  of  Christina.  At  least 
so  Christina  would  look  when  he  claimed  her  as  his 
own. 

The  schoolmaster  watched  him  looking  through  the 
volume.  "  Do  you  remember  what  you  always  read  first 
when  I  lent  you  those  magazines?"  and  not  waiting  for 
an  answer :  "  the  funny  page.  All  the  children  did  that, 
and  later  you  would  look  for  the  novels.  Fun  first,  then 
romance,  and  tragedy  next.  Tragedy  next,  my  boy; 
that  comes  last,  and  the  last  is  the  best. 

"No,  no,  this  won't  hurt  me.  That  crazy  doctor 
doesn't  know  anything  about  it.  The  tragedy  isn't  so 
bad  when  you  suffer  innocently.  Christina  talks  to  me 
about  her  Jesus.  She  talks  to  me  just  as  Babushka  does 
about  the  dear  Jeshzitshek;  but  no  one  knows  Him  till 
one  has  suffered  innocently.  Yes,  I  have  been  there." 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  77 

He  continued  in  brief  snatches,  fighting  back  the  inevi 
table  cough. 

"  The  jail,  the  beggars  and  the  thieves,  you  are  with 
them,  but  not  one  of  them — it  helps  to  know  you  are 
not  one  of  them, — the  court  and  the  prosecutor — you 
grow  bigger  and  bigger  when  they  accuse  you  and  call 
the  right  the  wrong  and  the  wrong  the  right — you  are 
not  one  of  them  and  it  helps 

"  The  Judge  who  folds  his  fat  hands  and  crosses  his 
legs  and  who  pronounces  you  guilty — when  )he  knows 
you  are  innocent — you  rise  above  him,  infinitely  above 

him,  and  it  helps,  it  all  helps The  crowd  which 

gaps  at  you  and  the  friends  who  said  they  were  friends 
and  are  ashamed  to  look  at  you  for  fear  of  incriminating 
themselves — you  are  not  one  of  them,  and  then  the 
poor  fellows  who  lead  you  away,  the  jailers,  thank  God, 
you  are  not  one  of  them.  Don't  try  to  stop  me — I  will 
talk. 

"Babushka  and  Christina  talk  about  being  with  the 
Lord  and  talking  to  Him;  they  don't  know,  the  poor  dear 
women.  I  know.  I  know.  I  have  walked  through  the 
streets,  a  condemned  man.  I  have  seen  them  pointing 
their  fingers  at  me,  and  I  was  lifted  into  the  very  center 

of  the  universe  above  them,  far  above  them Yes, 

I  cried  like  a  child,  but  the  tears  washed  all  the  suffer 
ing  out  of  me.  I  knew  what  Jesus  meant  when  He  said : 
'  And  the  third  day  I  shall  rise  again ' — I  know,  I 
know " 

He  drew  Yanek  down  to  him  and  whispered :  "  Listen, 
Yanek.  Christina  says  that  it  is  sacrilege.  You  may 
crucify  the  truth,  but  it  will  rise  again,  and  on  the  Day 
of  Judgment  we  will  all  rise  and  sing  e  Hey  Slovane.' ' 

Yanek  begged  his  friend  not  to  speak  again,  and  for 
more  than  one  reason  he  was  glad  that  just  then  Christina 
entered  the  room.  She  came  daily  at  that  hour  to  make 


78        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

order  out  of  the  chaos  which  the  doctor  always  left.  She 
prepared  a  cooling  drink  for  the  patient  and  bathed  his 
forehead. 

Yes,  Yanek  might  get  the  fresh  water  if  he  wished. 

"Mater  Dolorosa,"  that  is  what  the  schoolmaster  al 
ways  called  her;  "do  you  know  the  last  time  you  sent 
him  to  fetch  water  for  me  ?  " 

She  stopped  for  a  moment  and  pretended  to  think; 
though  the  incident  flashed  into  her  mind  instantly.  It 
was  in  the  tree  school,  as  the  nursery  was  called,  where 
the  schoolmaster  performed  those  miracles  of  grafting 
and  planting.  Where  he  made  fine  Royal  pears  grow 
on  the  trees  which  formerly  bore  a  fruit  appropriately 
called  " Nyihlitchky"  Little  Rotters,  because  they  were 
so  hard  that  they  were  eatable  only  when  they  were 
partially  decayed. 

Yes,  she  remembered,  and  now  Royal  pears  and  big 
apples  and  sweet  cherries  were  blessing  the  valley;  but 
after  all  the  real  miracle  he  worked  was  with  boys  and 
girls. 

"Look  at  Yanek,'*  and  then  her  face  flushed  and  the 
schoolmaster  didn't  like  that  a  bit,  for  there  was  a  great 
passion  in  his  heart,  growing  daily — a  holy  passion,  he 
said  to  himself;  for  was  he  not  twelve  years  her  senior 
and  just  out  of  prison,  with  a  broken  body,  and  was  she 
not  his  Mater  Dolorosa? 

"  Yanek  is  all  right,"  he  said,  Christina  having  en 
couraged  him  to  express  his  opinion ;  "  but  no  longer  a 
Slovak  at  heart.  They  have  starched  him  over  there 
until  he  is  stiff,  like  the  glossy  collar  he  wears,  and  he  is 
religious,  yet  I  fear  his  religion  is  weak  and  yielding. 
He  took  a  verbal  beating  from  the  doctor  without  resist 
ing.  I  fear  he  is  like  Babushka  and  you,  and  that  he  will 
talk  to  me  about  the  dear  Jeshzitshek  and  will  want  to 
convert  me." 


THE  SCHOOLMASTER  79 

Christina  had  finished  her  womanly  little  touches 
about  the  room,  and  going  to  his  side  she  took  both  his 
hands  in  hers,  and,  looking  full  into  his  eyes,  while  he 
looked  steadily  into  hers :  "  Schoolmaster,"  she  said, 
"  would  to  God  you  were  converted.  You  need  the  peace 
of  God  in  your  heart." 

"Yes,"  he  thought,  "if  this  is  the  peace  of  God  I 
need  it;  and  if  this  is  conversion,  this  yielding  myself  to 
your  touch,  then  I  want  to  be  converted.  Do  with  me 
what  you  will." 

Yanek  entered  at  that  moment,  carrying  the  water, 
and  as  he  saw  them  thus,  hand  in  hand,  a  thought  flashed 
through  his  mind,  a  thought  which  became  a  conviction 
as  he  saw  how  tenderly  Christina  bathed  the  teacher's 
brow  and  with  what  a  supreme  content  he  accepted  her 
ministrations.  Both  men  felt  her  to  be  something  more 
than  mere  woman,  and  both  knew  they  loved  her  with  a 
passion  which  received  its  glow  from  her  own  radiance. 

The  nurse  came  to  stay  through  the  night,  and  Yanek 
said  he  would  walk  home  with  Christina.  The  school 
master  told  them  that  he  was  feeling  better;  how  could 
he  help  it?  And  he  was  also  feeling  worse,  though  of 
course  he  did  not  say  so,  and  how  could  he  help  that? 
He  sighed  deeply;  for  the  room  looked  strangely  dark 
as  they  passed  out. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT:  THE  BEETERS 

IT  was  a  crisp  autumn  morning,  just  the  kind  of  morn 
ing  to  go  hunting.  So  thought  Sanctus  Spiritus  and 
Company,  individually  and  collectively.  Father  Anton 
Kalman  thought  so  when  he  got  up,  remembering  a 
stormy  session  he  had  with  his  curate  the  night  before. 
The  curate  came  in  late,  later  than  usual,  his  step  not 
any  too  steady,  and  he  was  singing  a  tune  which  was  not 
in  the  Hymnal  of  the  church.  One  word  led  to  another 
and  finally  the  younger  man  threatened  to  report  his 
superior  to  the  bishop  for  discouraging  patriotic  utter 
ances  in  the  pulpit. 

Through  storm  and  stress  of  many  years  Father  Kal 
man  had  kept  his  church  a  place  where  man  could  meet 
his  God  through  the  Holy  Sacraments.  "  Our  priest  does 
not  preach,"  his  people  used  to  say,  "  he  just  talks  to  us 
like  a  father  to  his  children,  and  sometimes  he  talks  to 
us  as  if  we  were  naughty  children." 

Now  this  new  display  of  eloquence,  this  making  the 
pulpit  rather  than  the  altar  the  center  of  the  service,  he 
didn't  like. 

His  curate  accused  him  of  jealousy,  and  perhaps  justly. 
Father  Anton  Kalman  was,  after  all,  human,  and  it  takes 
a  great  deal  of  grace  to  be  put  aside  and  not  feel  it; 
but  the  dear  Lord  was  helping  him  even  as  He  helped 
Samuel  when  the  people  looked  upon  Saul  as  their  king. 
He  thought  he  must  pray  the  more,  and  he  did. 

He  slept  little  that  night  after  the  scene  with  the 
curate,  and  he  was  not  much  comforted  in  his  prayer. 
He  had  said  early  mass,  the  curate  being  indisposed,  and 

80 


THE  BEETERS  81 

now  he  thought  it  would  do  him  good  to  spend  the  day 
in  the  Bashanyitza. 

Strange  to  say  Moritz  Redlich  thought  the  same  thing, 
for  he  too  had  passed  a  sleepless  night.  if  What  does 
Anton  know  about  trouble?  "  he  soliloquized.  "  He  is  a 
Holy  Father  and  I  am  a  real  father.  *  Children  are  as 
arrows.  Happy  is  the  man  who  hath  his  quiver  full 
of  them/  King  David  was  right,  they  are  as  arrows, 
but  how  can  one  be  happy  if  the  arrows  fly  into  his  own 
heart  ?  Oy,  oy !  "  he  lamented.  "  Children  are  arrows 
indeed!  There  is  Sandor,  and  that  poor,  ailing  baby. 
Hm!  Hm!  What  does  the  Holy  Father  know  about 
children?" 

Sophie  was  not  any  too  well,  and  his  home  had  become 
bedlam.  In  the  morning  Hannak  the  music  teacher 
comes,  usually  the  worse  for  liquor,  and  then  there  is 
such  a  beating  of  the  piano  that  it  is  no  wonder  the  child 
is  nervous.  Then  the  Fraulein  comes  and  she  is  worse 
than  Hannak;  he  is  at  least  honest;  poor,  drunken  fool. 
But  the  Fraulein,  with  her  small,  shifty  eyes  which  seem 
to  be  everywhere  at  once,  he  cannot  tolerate.  She  stays 
till  noon,  and  when  she  is  not  retailing  all  the  scandal  of 
two  continents,  or  is  not  slandering  somebody,  she  is 
singing.  God  deliver  him  from  such  singing. 

And  then  his  wife,  sitting  in  her  imported  rocking 
chair,  manicuring  her  finger  nails  or  reading  novels. 
Always  some  man  with  her,  more  often  two.  Now  it 
is  Kukulish  and  Herr  Ritter,  rivals  for  her  smiles.  There 
was  not  much  choice  between  them  he  thought,  except 
that  he  despised  the  one  and  hated  the  other.  Kukulish 
follows  her  like  a  dog,  and  she  follows  Ritter  like  a  dog. 

Would  to  God  they  had  never  brought  that  fellow 
into  his  life!  He  was  to  blame  for  the  big  project  and 
the  new  sign.  That  new  sign  had  haunted  him  all  night. 
Moritz  Redlich  hanging  by  a  rope!  He  was  afraid  he 


82        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

was  going  crazy,  and  the  only  way  he  seemed  to  be  able 
to  save  himself  was  to  act  like  that  foolish  American 
who  buttoned  and  unbuttoned  his  coat,  and  kept  saying 
that  everything  was  fine  in  America.  He  was  saying 
that  this  morning,  just  as  he  felt  the  gloomy  mood  com 
ing  upon  him.  "  It  is  fine  in  America !  "  Then  it  flashed 
into  his  mind,  it  is  a  fine  day  to  go  hunting. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  also  was  not  any  too  happy  that 
morning.  The  Judge  called  on  him  the  night  before, 
and  showed  him  a  formidable  document  which  had  come 
from  Budapest.  The  Pan  had  insulted  His  Excellency 
by  telling  him  to  go  to  the  devil  with  his  offer  of  a 
Baronetcy. 

"I  was  merely  quoting  Scripture, "  replied  the  Pan; 
to  which  the  Judge  retorted  that  he  would  quote  to  him 
paragraphs  10  and  20  from  statute  347,  and  what  is 
Scripture  against  such  authority?  He  had  insulted  a 
cabinet  member  and  unless  he  apologized  he  would  have 
to  take  the  consequences. 

That  was  not  the  only  thing  which  had  gone  wrong. 
Sonya  had  introduced  Yanek  at  the  Athletic  Club  without 
asking  his  leave,  and  he  had  beaten  the  young  Baron 
Smertzing  at  tennis.  It  was  the  Baron  who  had  intro 
duced  the  game,  and  had  taught  everybody.  He  was  the 
patron  saint  of  the  sport,  and  now  he  had  been  beaten 
by  a  coachman's  son,  and  how  ingloriously  beaten.  He 
lost  his  temper  and  insulted  Yanek,  and  when  Christina 
heard  of  it  she  took  her  sister  to  task. 

Sonya  laughed  at  her  for  taking  the  matter  so  seriously, 
and  told  her  she  had  no  sense  of  humor.  It  was  de 
lightful  to  see  Yanek  beat  the  Baron  and  take  the  con 
ceit  out  of  the  fop.  If  only  when  the  cad  insulted  him, 
he  had  obliterated  some  of  the  boundary  marks  of  the 
tennis  court  with  the  fellow  instead  of  going  away,  she 
would  have  kissed  him  then  and  there. 


THE  BEETERS  83 

Christina  lost  her  temper  and  wouldn't  come  to  prayers 
after  supper,  and  the  evening  was  doubly  spoiled  for  the 
Pan. 

This  morning  when  he  woke  he  was  still  perplexed  as 
to  what  he  should  do  about  His  Excellency.  Hoping  to 
clarify  his  thought  in  the  open  country,  he  too  said: 
"  it  is  a  fine  day  for  hunting/'  and  so  it  was  that  Sanctus 
Spiritus  and  Company  met  on  the  corner  where  they 
always  met.  With  their  guns  over  their  shoulders  and 
their  luncheon  in  their  leather  pouches,  they  marched 
through  the  Esplanade,  then  across  the  field  by  the  ruins 
of  the  little  Hussite  chapel  to  the  pine  woods,  called  the 
Bashanyitza. 

"  It  drives  the  cobwebs  out  of  one's  brains,"  Father 
Kalman  said,  and  by  cobwebs  he  meant  the  curate. 

Moritz  Redlich  did  not  cough  nearly  so  much,  and 
Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  smoked  one  pipeful  to  its  very  end, 
after  having  lighted  it  with  only  one  match. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning.  On  every  ribboned  field 
they  saw  the  workers,  pulling  cabbages,  or  plowing  for 
the  winter  crops,  chatting  or  singing.  The  men  doffed 
their  caps  as  the  trio  passed,  and  replied  to  the  ff  Pomohiy 
Pan  Bock"  with  the  friendly  "Pan  Boch  Deiy."  Yes, 
indeed,  they  had  God's  help.  How  else  could  they  be  so 
happy?  They  were  working  with  God.  Charring  and 
singing  and  working,  without  worry. 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  world/'  Father  Kalman  said,  as 
he  looked  over  the  fields  toward  the  mountains,  their 
heads  peeping  above  the  mist  as  if  they  too  were  eager  to 
forget  their  troubles.  Nevertheless,  the  priest  thought, 
it  would  be  more  wonderful  without  that  curate  to 
bother  him;  that  was  still  like  the  mist  around  his  heart. 

Moritz  Redlich  echoed  his  words  as  he  looked  at  the 
roads  lined  by  heavy  laden,  blue  plum  trees,  the  ripe 
fruit  covering  the  ground  as  if  the  very  sky  had  fallen. 


84        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

How  much  lovelier  it  would  be,  though,  if — ah,  there 
were  so  many  ifs,  and  the  chief  if  was,  if  he  could  still 
make  plum  brandy  and  never  have  to  bother  with  stocks, 
and  if  the  Herr  Ritter  were  back  in  Germany,  and 
Gittele  were  still  alive. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky,  ever  the  non-conformist,  thought 
it  a  rather  pleasant  day,  and  inwardly  he  said,  how  much 
pleasanter  it  would  be  if  the  devil  would  take  His  Excel 
lency,  and  if  Yanek  had  stayed  over  in  America,  and  so 
would  not  have  beaten  the  Baron  at  tennis,  and  if  it  were 
not  for  sugar  beets. 

Nothing  is  perfect  in  this  world,  not  even  that  rare 
day,  when  the  three  old  men  might  have  agreed  upon  at 
least  one  thing;  that  it  was  a  perfect  day.  They  did  not 
shoot  anything,  they  did  not  expect  to.  It  was  com 
monly  rumored  that  they  never  took  any  ammunition, 
and  that  the  pheasants,  knowing  it,  would  run  under 
their  feet  like  chickens;  so  that  did  not  spoil  the  day. 

In  the  heart  of  the  woods  they  ate  their  luncheon. 
Moritz  Redlich  had  brought  the  usual  roast  goose.  He 
always  brought  ample  portions,  because  his  confreres 
could  eat  what  he  brought,  though  he  could  not  eat  their 
food.  Father  Anton  Kalman  was  fond  of  the  drum 
stick,  so  fond  of  it  that  he  used  to  say  he  wished  every 
goose  had  four  of  them. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  liked  goose  liver.  He  always  said, 
when  he  spread  it  thick  upon  a  piece  of  rye  bread,  "  Moses 
made  it  easy  for  you  Jews  to  forego  pork.  No  pig 
can  beat  a  goose  for  liver." 

They  could  drink  wine  together,  fortunately,  and  that 
Father  Kalman  supplied ;  for  there  was  a  deep,  cool  cellar 
under  the  parsonage,  and  his  predecessors  were  like 
Joseph.  They  had  foreseen  the  lean  years  and  had 
provided  bountifully  for  them. 

The  afternoon  was  as  pleasant  as  the  morning,  though 


THE  BEETERS  85 

it  was  growing  cool  as  the  sun  began  to  touch  the  moun 
tains.  They  had  not  had  much  conversation,  so  no 
serious  disagreements  developed;  although  the  Pan 
insisted  that  Hunyadi  water  was  a  fraud,  and  that  it 
was  just  plain  water  with  Glauber  sUts.  Father  Anton 
defended  Hunyadi,  and  Moritz  Redlich  believed  in  the 
hot  baths,  and  hoped  he  would  live  at  least  another 
season,  so  that  he  could  get  to  Poestyan  and  have  the 
rheumatism  boiled  out  of  him.  Nevertheless  even  that 
perfect  day  was  not  to  end  happily  for  three  men  who 
faced  so  many  ifs,  as  the  sun  went  down. 

The  Reverend  Yanek  Hruby  also  thought  this  a  fine 
day  as  had  some  other  people  who  helped  spoil  it  for 
Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company.  He  too  had  had  a  bad 
night  of  it.  Of  course  he  went  to  play  tennis  with  Sonya 
though  he  had  determined  not  to  go.  He  was  sure  he 
would  not  that  evening  when  he  walked  home  with 
Christina  from  the  schoolmaster's.  They  stopped  under 
the  acacia  tree  and  recalled  the  many  spring  times  when 
they  sucked  honey  from  the  locust  blossoms  which  he 
had  brought  down  with  such  well  aimed  stones.  When 
they  passed  the  swimming  hole  they  spoke  of  the  first 
tragedy  they  had  witnessed,  the  drowning  of  a  shoe 
maker's  apprentice.  It  was  Yanek  who  pulled  him  out 
of  the  water,  and  together  they  tried  to  resuscitate  him, 
kneeling  beside  the  wet  little  body.  Christina  was 
severely  punished  for  coming  home  with  her  summer 
frock  all  spoiled  by  the  wet  mud,  and  she  was 
ashamed  to  tell  where  she  had  been  and  what  she  had 
done. 

They  walked  together  over  the  narrow  bridge,  so  close, 
that  he  was  thrilled  by  her  nearness  to  him.  The  haze 
over  the  river  wrapt  the  willows  in  fantastic  draperies 
and  they  talked  of  the  witch  stories  they  had  heard  the 
peasants  tell,  and  the  whistles  Yanek  made  for  her  from 


86        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

those  very  trees.  He  experienced  that  mysticism  for 
which  he  had  vainly  longed  in  his  devotion  to  God,  and 
his  body,  mind  and  soul  blended  with  hers. 

He  confessed  to  her  his  irresolution.  Face  to  face  as 
he  was  with  his  life's  task,  he  felt  that  he  had  no  mes 
sage  for  his  people  who  had  been  thrown  into  the  welter 
of  nationalism.  Then  she  became  his  Mater  Dolorosa, 
the  mother  of  this  boy  who  understood  everything  about 
himself  except  that  he  was  just  as  irresolute  about  an 
other,  all  absorbing  passion.  He  needed  her  help,  a 
word  from  her,  a  warmer  touch  of  her  hand,  a  different 
look  in  her  eyes.  He  did  not  know  that  she  was  as 
undecided  as  he,  and  as  ready  to  yield  herself  to  him 
had  he  been  more  determined. 

So  they  walked  side  by  side,  yet  far  apart,  talking  of 
the  great  aspirations  which  filled  their  souls  but  not  their 
hearts.  There  seemed  to  be  another  opportunity  for 
self -revelation  when  they  came  to  the  river  gate  of  the 
Pan's  garden.  There,  childhood  memories  crowded  upon 
them  both.  Many  and  many  a  time  he  had  climbed  over 
the  wall  just  at  that  point  to  fetch  the  ball  with  which 
they  were  playing  and  which  had  escaped  them. 

"  Christina,  I  am  going  to  fetch  your  ball !  "  he  cried, 
and  before  she  knew  it,  he  was  on  top  of  the  glass 
sprinkled,  adobe  wall.  As  chance  or  fate  would  have  it, 
on  the  other  side  of  the  wall  was  Sonya,  her  hair  blown 
by  the  wind,  her  bare  arms  upraised,  for  she  was  playing 
tennis  with  one  of  her  many  admirers.  She  leveled  her 
racket  at  the  intruder  crying:  "  Halt,  apple  thief!  Sur 
render  or  I  shoot !  "  And  though  he  did  not  jump  into 
the  garden,  but  opened  the  gate  for  Christina,  and  let 
her  in,  and  though  they  walked  toward  the  house  to 
gether,  and  though  when  they  passed  the  pigeon  loft  his 
heart  beat  faster,  he  wondered  if  he  had  surrendered  to 
Sonya. 


THE  BEETERS  87 

The  next  day  she  was  to  introduce  him  at  the  Athletic 
Club.  His  mother  pressed  his  white  trousers  for  him, 
and  when  he  had  put  on  his  flannel  shirt,  tilted  his  collar, 
college  boy  fashion,  and  tied  a  handkerchief  over  his 
forehead,  he  looked  at  himself  in  the  mirror  and  was 
satisfied  that  even  the  Baron  could  look  no  better.  His 
mother  enthusiastically  admired  him  and  when  he  met 
Sonya,  she  told  him  he  looked  like  a  Greek  god.  He  car 
ried  her  racket,  and  they  created  an  undeniable  sensation 
when  they  appeared  at  the  Athletic  Club. 

The  Baroness  was  there,  and  she  put  up  her  lorgnette 
and,  after  scrutinizing  him,  pronounced  him  chic. 
Madam  Czerny  the  apothecary's  wife  leveled  her  kodak 
at  him,  and  the  men  knew  they  had  a  rival. 

They  had  played  a  set  of  doubles,  he  and  Sonya  being 
partners;  and  though  she  played  poorly  and  he  did  not 
exert  himself,  they  won  by  a  close  margin.  Baron 
Ferencz  Smertzing  appeared  while  the  game  was  in 
progress.  He  was  told  who  the  guest  was,  and  made  no 
effort  to  conceal  his  displeasure.  It  was  Sonya  who 
insisted  that  the  two  men  play  single,  and  she  was  sup 
ported  by  the  other  ladies  who  enjoyed  seeing  the  agile 
movements  of  the  bronzed,  muscular  young  American. 

"  He  looks  like  an  Indian  chief,"  the  Baroness  kept 
saying,  and  she  was  right,  though  she  had  not  the  slight 
est  idea  what  an  Indian  chief  looked  like. 

Baron  Smertzing  knew  how  to  play  tennis.  He  had 
learned  that  and  many  other  things  in  England.  How 
ever,  he  was  no  match  for  this  young  athlete,  who  not 
only  knew  the  game,  but  whose  body  was  unweakened  by 
excesses.  Like  a  stone  from  a  sling,  the  balls  came  flying 
over  the  net,  and  it  was  always  a  love  game  when 
Yanek  served.  The  spectators  had  crowded  close,  and 
while  the  Baron  succeeded  in  making  points,  he  knew 
he  was  ingloriously  doomed  to  defeat.  He  heard  the 


88        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

ladies'  ejaculations.  Sonya  was  dancing  in  glee,  and  then 
he  lost  his  temper. 

Having  failed  to  strike,  at  the  first  bound,  a  ball  which 
he  was  returning  to  the  server,  Yanek  was  about  to  hit 
it  at  the  second  bound  when  the  Baron  clucked  his  tongue, 
and  called  out :  "  Git  up,  horsey!  Hit,  Ho !  " 

Then  it  was  all  over.  Yanek  dropped  his  racket.  His 
face  grew  pale,  he  compressed  his  lips  and  bit  his  tongue 
to  restrain  himself,  then  wheeled  around  and  walked 
away.  That  is  the  way  it  happened  that  the  next  morn 
ing  he  thought  it  was  a  fine  day  to  go  walking  in  the 
woods. 

At  the  edge  of  the  Bashanyitza  he  saw  the  Redlich 
carriage  and  Andrew  Feher  smoking  his  short  pipe  while 
trying  to  hold  his  restless  horses.  Yanek  entered  the 
woods  for  healing  and  forgetfulness,  and  he  emerged 
from  them  more  disturbed  than  before;  for  he  had  seen 
the  Madam  and  Herr  Ritter  there  together.  Evidently 
they  had  also  thought  that  it  was  a  fine  day  to  go  to  the 
woods. 

The  obtrusion  of  sex  into  Yanek's  own  life,  the  prob 
lem  of  keeping  dominant  the  spiritual  motive,  his  inability 
to  marshal  those  forces  which  he  needed  to  save  himself, 
made  him  strangely  lenient  in  his  judgment  of  the  guilty 
pair.  Had  he  been  what  he  thought  he  was,  he  might 
have  stepped  between  them  accusingly,  like  an  angel  of 
justice.  Now  he  stole  away  and  was  glad  that  he  had 
not  disturbed  them  in  their  amorous  embrace. 

As  he  stepped  out  of  the  woods  he  saw  the  far  stretch 
ing  beet  fields  of  the  Sugar  Trust  and  he  breathed  more 
easily,  watching  the  beeters  at  their  task.  All  of  them 
were  bending  to  Mother  Earth,  garnering  her  fruits. 
The  young-  women  were  pulling  the  beets,  the  older  ones 
and  the  children  sat  around  in  huge  circles,  cutting  off 
the  tops  and  tossing  them  into  great  heaps,  and  the  men 


THE  BEETERS  89 

shoveled  them  into  the  carts.  The  white,  long  horned 
cattle  chewing  their  cud,  perfected  this  picture  of  peace. 
Yanek  began  playing  with  the  children,  and  when  he 
took  one  of  the  unruly  infants  in  his  arms  and  quieted 
it  with  a  well  remembered  lullaby,  the  women  smiled  at 
him  and  told  him  he  was  evidently  well  prepared  to  take 
care  of  his  own.  "  May  the  Pan  Boch  grant  him  a  great 
many  of  them." 

"  Yes,  the  Slovak  women  have  a  hard  life,"  the  mother 
of  the  baby  said  to  him.  "  What  with  bearing  a  child 
every  year,  working  out  in  the  field  and  cooking  the 
meals,  no  wonder  they  grow  old  soon ;  but  the  Pan  Boch 
helps."  Yes,  the  Pan  Boch!  thought  Yanek.  What 
would  they  do  without  the  consolation  of  the  Lord's 
presence?  And  if  the  Lord  is  everywhere,  why  should 
He  not  be  here  in  this  beet  field  with  these  humble  peo 
ple?  There  were  some  coarse  jests  at  his  expense,  which 
made  him  blush,  the  young  women  cast  sheepish  glances 
at  him,  and  they  did  many  things  which  were  indelicate, 
to  say  the  least ;  but  they  were  working,  honestly  working, 
and  when  he  heard  the  drivers  coaxing  their  oxen  with 
"  hit "  and  "  hoe,"  he  thought  of  yesterday,  and  was 
doubly  ashamed  of  himself  for  having  grown  angry  at 
the  Baron's  taunt. 

After  all,  this  was  where  he  belonged,  among  his  own 
people,  and  he  pulled  off  his  coat,  relieved  himself  of  his 
stiff  collar  and  began  shoveling  beets.  He  had  learned 
something  besides  playing  tennis  in  America,  he  had 
learned  how  to  handle  a  shovel  scientifically.  He  gave  it 
a  shove  and  a  twist,  such  as  the  miners  use  in  loading 
coal;  he  hurled  the  beets  through  the  air  and  never  one 
fell  on  the  ground. 

He  held^  the  shovel  differently  from  the  way  the 
peasants  held  theirs,  and  the  beets  just  tumbled  into  it. 
He  crouched  for  a  moment,  then  straightened  his  body, 


90        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

and  lifted  the  shovel  to  the  level  of  the  wagon  at  the 
same  time,  and  before  they  knew  it,  the  shovel  was  on 
the  ground  again  ready  for  another  toss. 

The  old  men  shook  their  heads  and  said :  "  Tak,  takf " 
The  young  men  were  bathed  in  perspiration  trying  to 
keep  up  with  him,  and  Kuby  Fish,  the  Jewish  overseer, 
stood,  fascinated  by  the  magic  of  his  performance,  saying 
over  and  over:  "The  Americans  are  so  praktisch!" 

The  women  did  not  compare  him  to  Greek  gods  or 
Indian  chiefs,  but  they  said :  "On  roby  yak  maschina" 
He  works  like  a  machine.  They  shared  their  frugal 
meal  with  him.  "  This  is  our  music,"  one  of  the  peasants 
said,  as  he  cut  huge  slices  from  their  loaves  of  rye  bread, 
the  knife  scraping  its  way  through  the  hard  crust. 

"  This  is  food  for  the  stomach,  perfume  for  the  nose, 
and  something  good  for  the  eye,  too,"  another  one  said 
laughingly,  as  he  cut  an  onion  and  ate  it  with  a  relish. 
What  would  the  poor  of  the  world  do  without  their 
onions  ?  The  Slavs  have  even  built  their  church  steeples 
a  la  Zwibula,  and  some  day  a  poet  of  the  people  will  im 
mortalize  it. 

"  This  is  our  strength,"  and  they  drank  the  Palenka, 
the  one  thing  the  Sugar  Trust  provided.  Not  too  much, 
to  make  them  drunk;  just  enough  to  make  them  stupidly 
contented.  When  Yanek  suggested  to  Kuby  Fish  that 
these  workers  deserved  better  treatment,  he  replied, 
"  They  are  only  pigs."  He  looked  at  them  as  they  sat 
around  waiting  for  the  signal  to  return  to  their  work. 
The  majority  of  them  looked  stupid;  the  higher  life  in 
them  was  unawakened  and  never  would  come  to  being. 
The  boys  and  girls  were  handsome;  but  in  thought, 
speech  and  gesture,  unclean.  It  was  sex  which  dominated 
their  lives,  crushing  and  crowding  out  better  things. 
After  all,  the  curse  of  poverty  was  not  the  inequality  of 
it,  but  the  iniquity;  that  they  were  indeed  made  into  pigs, 


THE  BEETERS  91 

and  had  no  chance  to  be  anything  else ;  yet,  he  reflected, 
are  the  rich,  the  very  rich,  any  better  than  pigs?  And 
he  thought  of  his  experience  in  the  woods.  What  were 
Madam  Redlich  and  the  Herr  Ritter  but  pigs  ?  They  ate 
from  cleaner  troughs,  and  were  a  little  more  discreet  in 
their  immorality;  still  they  were  pigs. 

He  saw  a  group  of  beeters  gathered  around  one  of  the 
men  who  was  reading  to  them.  He  had  noticed  them 
before  and  wondered  what  made  them  seem  different. 
They  were  from  the  same  region,  for  they  wore  the 
same  picturesque  clothes  and  spoke  the  same  Slovak 
dialect.  The  foreman  did  not  offer  them  any  Palenka 
and  he  asked  him  the  reason.  Kuby  Fish  touched  his 
forehead  to  indicate  that  they  were  insane. 

"  They  have  got  a  new  religion.  They  drink  no 
Palenka,  eat  no  meat  and  say  they  will  not  kill,  and  their 
women  have  no  children  till  they  are  married,"  he  added 
with  a  coarse  laugh. 

Yanek  joined  them  and  found  that  it  was  their  elder 
who  was  reading  to  them.  He  listened  to  the  man,  who 
was  slowly  and  painfully  reading  from  the  fifth  chapter 
of  Matthew. 

No,  not  even  Kuby  Fish  could  call  these  people  pigs, 
though  he  might  call  them  insane.  In  them  stupidity  had 
become  single  mindedness,  and  their  lives  were  turned 
toward  a  holy  aspiration.  What  made  the  difference? 
A  very  simple  and  yet  a  very  profound  thing.  They  had 
a  rule  of  life,  the  wise  would  call  it  a  philosophy. 

"Yes  brother/'  the  Starosta  answered;  "We  drink 
no  alcohol,  take  no  oath,  we  will  not  fight,  we  live  in 
chastity,  and  we  are  waiting  for  the  coming  of  our 
Lord." 

Yanek  knew  exactly  what  his  professor  of  Exegesis 
would  have  said  to  the  man.  He  would  have  told  him 
that  he  was  a  literalist,  which  of  course  the  old  man  could 


92        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

not  have  understood,  and  that  the  Lord  is  always  coming, 
which  he  also  could  not  have  understood.  What  the 
professor  could  not  have  denied,  was,  that  these  people 
were  just  such  simple  folk  as  followed  the  Lord  when 
He  was  upon  the  Earth,  and  that  they  stood  out  from 
their  group  like  men  aflame  from  God,  which  could  not 
be  said  of  himself,  or  of  the  people  in  that  church  in 
America,  who  were  so  eager  to  send  him  to  convert  his 
countrymen. 

Where  did  they  get  their  faith  ? 

"  That  is  a  long  story/'  the  old  man  replied ;  but  he 
could  tell  him  so  much,  that  a  man  came  back  from 
America,  and  gathered  them  together.  They  were 
all  addicted  to  alcohol,  they  beat  their  wives,  they  lived 
in  unchastity,  and  they  were  unlettered.  He  read  to 
them  out  of  the  book  where  Jesus  speaks,  and  then  he 
talked  to  them.  He  talked  to  them  as  no  minister  ever 
had  spoken  to  them.  He  spoke  with  tongues  as  he  was 
moved  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  some  of  them  felt  His 
presence  so  that  they  too  began  to  speak,  though  they 
had  never  spoken  of  holy  things  before.  "  Upon  me 
too,  the  Holy  Spirit  descended." 

Yanek  rememebered  the  rules  of  Homiletics,  all  his 
firstlies  and  lastlies;  all  the  fine  balancing,  of  truth  upon 
the  needle  point  of  a  text,  the  hours  and  hours  which 
he  spent  in  determining  who  wrote  this  or  that  part  of 
the  book  of  Isaiah,  and  now  after  it  all,  his  confusion  of 
mind,  his  lack  of  purpose,  his  inner  discord.  And  here 
he  heard  of  a  man  who  had  come  from  this  same 
America,  with  nothing  but  a  living  faith,  a  real  program 
and  a  hope,  and  he  had  wrought  this  great  miracle.  For 
it  was  a  miracle,  though  he  might  go  to  his  William  James 
"Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  and  have  the  whole 
thing  explained  by  him  to  a  T. 

It  would  have  been  a  "  fine  "  day  indeed,  if  this  thing 


THE  BEETERS  93 

had  not  happened,  and  if  still  other  things  were  not  to 
happen  both  to  him  and  to  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Com 
pany  who  were  just  emerging  from  the  Bashdnyitza, 
Moritz  Redlich  was  coughing  harder  than  usual,  and  why 
shouldn't  he?  It  was  such  a  "  fine  "  day,  till  by  sheer 
chance  they  saw  the  Herr  Ritter  coming  from  the  woods, 
mounting  his  horse  which  was  tied  at  the  edge  of  the 
forest.  Then  they  heard  the  trampling  of  horses 
and  the  Redlich  carriage  with  the  Madam  rolled  past 
them. 

The  three  old  men  were  walking  slowly  back  toward 
town,  and  when  they  came  to  the  beet  field  they  found 
the  workers  in  a  riot. 

Lindner's  omnibus  had  driven  by,  full  of  Americans 
who  had  been  celebrating  their  return  to  the  homeland  by 
imbibing  so  freely,  that  they  had  reached  the  happy  mood 
in  which  they  felt  generous  toward  the  whole  world  and 
wanted  everybody  to  be  as  happy  as  they  were.  They 
had  brought  out  flasks  of  Palenka  to  the  beeters,  and 
had  no  difficulty  in  luring  them  from  their  work.  Kuby 
Fish  strenuously  objected  and  threatened  them  with  the 
gendarmes. 

Did  he  know  who  they  were  ?  They  were  Americans, 
free  Americans,  and  he  and  his  gendarmes  could  go  to 
the  devil  if  they  wanted  to.  All  the  beeters  must  stop 
work  and  drink,  and  all  of  them  did,  except  the  "  Sal- 
vesh,"  the  crazy  men  who  had  a  religion  which  forbade 
them  to  drink  Palenka.  They  were  led  to  the  omnibus, 
and  did  not  resist  until  the  "  Americans  "  tried  to  pour 
the  Palenka  down  their  throats.  Was  it  fortunate  or  un 
fortunate  that  Yanek  was  not  a  literalist,  and  that  he 
had  been  taught  not  to  take  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  too 
seriously  ? 

He  jumped  between  the  men  and  their  tormentors,  his 
shovel  lifted  above  the  heads  of  the  drunken  Americans, 


94        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

and  threatened  to  brain  them  if  they  would  not  let  the 
beeters  go. 

It  wasn't  the  sight  of  the  shovel  which  cowed  them,  but 
the  fact  that  he  spoke  English  to  them,  that  Greek  had 
met  Greek,  or  rather  that  American  had  met  American. 
They  meant  no  harm,  but  as  American  Slovaks  they  did 
not  want  their  fellow  countrymen  to  fare  like  pigs,  and 
they  had  come  out  to  treat  them. 

The  fellow  who  was  the  spokesman  of  the  group,  and 
who  used  very  lurid  English,  learned  at  the  mouth  of  the 
minepit,  then  turned  and  began  to  harangue  his  country 
men  as  he  had  harangued  the  workmen  at  the  brewery  a 
few  days  before,  and  it  was  at  that  moment  that  Sanctus 
Spiritus  and  Company  passed  the  field. 

"  In  America  it  is  fine !  "  the  man  shouted.  "  You 
can  get  six  times  the  wages,  and  have  whisky  by  the 
barrel  and  beer  by  the  hogshead;  and  here  you  are  work 
ing  for  a  pittance,  and  for  whom?  For  Jews  and  Mag 
yars  who  eat  roast  goose  and  drink  wine  while  you  eat 
the  peelings  of  potatoes,  and  praise  God  if  you  get  a 
swig  of  Palenka  once  a  day."  He  showed  them  his  "  fine 
suit."  "  Look  at  it,"  he  said,  "  and  compare  it  with  your 
coarse  trousers  and  your  shirt.  You  haven't  even  the 
comfort  of  knowing  when  a  flea  bites  you,  for  it  is 
scratch,  scratch,  from  morning  till  evening. 

"  Look  at  my  fine  watch,  and  you  have  only  the  sun 
as  your  clock,  and  at  night  you  can't  see  it.  Look  at 
my  fountain  pen,  it's  full  of  ink,  and  the  point  is  of 
gold,  and  at  the  tip  there  is  a  diamond,  and  you  can't  even 
scratch  your  names  with  a  slate  pencil.  Look  at  the  fine 
gold  in  my  teeth;  it  cost  me  over  a  hundred  dollars  to 
have  it  hammered  in,  and  you  men  of  my  age  are  chewing 
your  food  if  you  have  any,  on  your  gums. 

"  In  America  when  the  boss  does  not  give  us  enough 
money  we  go  to  his  office  and  say :  *  Give  us  more  money 


THE  BEETERS  95 

or  we  will  strike/  and  if  the  money  does  not  come,  we 
strike,  and  throw  stones,  and  break  up  the  machinery  till 
the  boss  gives  us  what  we  want. 

"  You  are  just  like  the  oxen,  only  not  so  well  off  for 
they  have  their  cud  to  chew,  and  you  have  nothing ;  they 
have  a  nice  warm  stable,  and  you  will  sleep  to-night  out 
in  the  miserable  lousy  barracks.  In  America  we  would 
set  fire  to  the  rat  hole." 

The  combination  of  Palenka,  the  display  of  fine  clothes 
and  gold  filled  teeth,  the  eloquence  of  the  tipsy  man  were 
too  much  for  their  peaceful  Slovak  blood,  and  the  beeters 
broke  their  wooden  shovels,  loosened  the  oxen  and 
marched  into  town,  carrying  Yanek  and  the  "  Salvesh  " 
with  them. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky's  matches  would  not  light  and  his 
Dresdenska  would  not  draw,  though  he  puffed  away  at  it 
as  if  he  had  the  asthma.  How  could  they  function  when 
the  world  was  growing  worse  and  worse,  with  sugar 
beets  and  immigration  all  tangled  up,  and  Yanek,  Hruby's 
Yanek,  among  the  beeters  who  had  left  their  work  before 
the  sun  was  down  ? 


CHAPTER  NINE:  THE  FIRST  "SCHKANDAL" 

HE  FRAULEIN"  had  come  to  give  Sophie  her 
singing  lesson  but  Sophie  was  not  as  well  as 
usual,  and  excused  herself  from  the  ordeal.  Madam  had 
the  migraine.  She  was  sitting  in  her  flowered  easy  chair, 
her  hair  disheveled.  There  were  black  circles  around 
her  eyes,  the  wrinkles  which  she  had  so  artfully  con 
cealed  seemed  to  have  been  carved  into  her  face  over 
night,  and  she  was  nervously  manicuring  her  finger  nails, 
though  she  never  glanced  at  them.  Both  she  and  Sophie 
would  have  been  glad  if  the  Fraulein  had  not  removed 
her  hat  and,  sitting  down,  asked  whether  they  had  heard 
about  the  big  schkandal.  Scandals  were  the  Fraulein's 
specialty,  and  when  no  scandal  happened,  she  invented 
one.  The  small  ones  she  embellished,  and  the  big  ones 
she  nourished  with  a  mother's  tender  care;  and  she  told 
them  all  with  the  same  gusto  with  which  she  ate  paprika 
chicken  which  was  her  favorite  dish. 

Dr.  Makutchky  called  her  the  Austro-Hungarian 
Monarchy,  and  he  had  rightly  named  her,  for  she  was  a 
racial  compound  in  which  Slav,  Roumanian,  German 
and  Magyar  blood  strains  had  remained  as  unassimilated 
and  as  constantly  at  war  with  one  another,  as  in  that 
political  body. 

In  a  country  where  there  was  talent  "  to  burn  "  and  no 
character  to  spare,  where,  though  people  were  kind 
hearted,  one's  word  and  one's  bond  were  equally  worth 
less;  where  they  kissed  each  other's  hands  at  the  least 
provocation  and  vigorously  kicked  when  one's  back  was 
turned;  where  it  was  bad  form  to  forget  your  friend's 
name's  day  or  birthday,  and  where  bills  were  sent  by 


THE  FIRST  "  SCHKANDAL  "  97 

registered  mail  lest  their  arrival  be  denied — in  such  a 
country  Fraulein  Ilonka  Lomatch,  or  just  "  the  Frau- 
lein  "  as  she  was  always  called,  was  true  to  the  type;  ex 
cept  that  she  was  what  did  not  always  happen,  a  good 
deal  better  in  some  things  and  infinitely  worse  in  others. 

Her  family  had  sacrificed  itself  upon  the  altar  of  her 
musical  education,  and  her  zenith  was  reached  when  a 
musical  critic  (for  a  consideration)  mentioned  her  name 
with  that  of  the  great  Materna.  She  came  to  the  United 
States  on  the  strength  of  that  press  notice,  and  "  would 
have  been  engaged  to  sing  at  the  Metropolitan  Opera 
House,  had  not  the  conductor,  who  was  in  love  with  the 
leading  soprano,  purposely  thrown  her  off  the  key,  and 
so  ruined  her  prospects/' 

She  then  went  on  a  concert  tour  and  sang  only  once, 
because  (she  said)  her  impressario  "made  indecent  de 
mands  "of  her,  and  she  promptly  resigned.  After  that 
she  gave  no  account  of  her  life,  until  turning  her  back 
upon  the  New  World  she  returned  to  her  native  country 
neither  sadder  nor  wiser,  not  even  richer,  with  a  smat 
tering  of  English  and  the  glory  of  having  sung  in  the 
Metropolitan  Opera. 

Yes,  "  meine  Gnaedige,"  she  had  settled  herself  at  her 
favorite  occupation.  "  Such  a  schkandal!  It  was  ter 
rible!  About  this  Meester  Hruby.  Fraulein  Christina 
is  broken  hearted !  To  think  of  it !  Such  a  schkandal! 
And  for  him  to  get  mixed  up  with  these  Kopanyitchary. 
I  told  you  meine  Gnaedige  that  he  had  it  thick  behind 
the  ears. 

"  They  came  marching  back  from  the  field  and  he  had 
a  wench  clinging  to  each  arm!  Yes,  this  pious  Meester 
Hruby,  and  they  went  to  the  sugar  factory  and  there  they 
began  breaking  the  windqws  and  when  the  gendarmes 
came  they  threw  stones  at  them,  and  now  they  got  what's 
coming  to  them.  The  Meester  Hruby  is  in  jail.  The 


98        SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Herr  Baron  says  he  is  an  anarchist  and  he  will  see  to  it 
that  the  country  is  delivered  from  this  American 
pest." 

The  Gnaedige  Madam  Redlich  was  greatly  relieved; 
for  the  Fraulein  seemed  to  know  nothing  of  the  schkandal 
in  which  she  was  involved.  In  that  she  was  mistaken. 
The  Fraulein  knew  all  about  it  and  some  things  which  the 
Gnaedige  herself  did  not  know. 

"  Did  the  Frau  Gnaedige  know  that  there  was  a 
schkandal  in  the  Casino?  Yes,  indeed  there  was.  The 
Herr  Ritter  was  playing  billiards  and  the  postmaster 
came  up  and  called  him  names,  and  the  Herr  Ritter 
merely  told  him  to  get  out  of  his  way,  the  nice,  kind  Herr 
Ritter!  "  The  Fraulein  was  watching  the  Gnaedige  with 
her  swift,  shifting  glance  which  one  could  feel  but  not 
see. 

"And  then,"  she  continued,  now  fixing  her  eyes  on  the 
Gnaedige,  "  the  postmaster  wrested  the  billiard  cue  from 
the  Herr  Ritter' s  hand  and  broke  it  over  his  head,  and 
now  there  is  to  be  an  American  duel." 

Madam  Redlich  had  risen  from  her  chair  and  the 
manicure  set  with  which  she  had  been  busily  engaged 
dropped  from  her  lap.  Her  face  had  grown  pale  and  her 
lip  was  quivering. 

"  Aber,  Gnaedige,  don't  get  excited.  An  American  duel 
is  not  so  bad.  Both  the  men  can  not  get  hurt.  The  one 
who  draws  the  black  ball,  he  dies,  it  is  very  simple."  It 
was  simple  enough  for  the  Fraulein  to  contemplate,  just 
another  schkandal  in  the  making;  but  it  was  not  so  simple 
for  Madam  Redlich.  Never  had  her  flirtations  had  such 
dramatic  consequences. 

Her  husband  had  indulged  her  from  the  first.  He  was 
an  old  man  and  she  was  full  of  life.  She  craved  excite 
ment,  and  this  snaring  of  men  and  letting  them  go,  was 
the  only  way  in  which  she  could  satisfy  her  desire.  There 


THE  FIRST  "  SCHKANDAL  "  99 

was  a  long  succession  of  them  and  nothing  serious  had 
happened  till  the  Herr  Ritter  came. 

Her  husband  did  not  like  him  from  the  first,  and  she 
thought  it  her  duty  to  be  kind  to  him.  Such  a  man 
buried  here  in  Hraszova !  What  a  pity !  So  there  were 
afternoon  coffees,  and  he  played  the  piano  divinely,  and 
read  poetry  to  her,  which  stimulated  her  romantic  mood; 
and  her  husband's  opposition  made  her  only  the  more 
attentive  to  the  poor  Herr  Ritter. 

Of  course,  there  was  Kukulish.  Kukulish  was  the  only 
one  of  all  her  admirers  who  had  a  strain  of  sincerity 
in  him.  He  had  clung  to  her,  had  brought  her  flowers 
and  talked  to  her  in  his  stupid  way,  and  never  demanded 
anything  but  to  sit  in  the  parlor  and  smoke  his  Cttbana 
and  look  at  her.  She  had  no  dog  and  he  answered  the 
purpose;  though  like  a  dog  he  followed  the  scent,  and 
over  and  over  again  when  Herr  Ritter  least  expected  it, 
the  postmaster  appeared  and  broke  the  magic  spell  he  had 
woven  around  the  Madam. 

This  one  time  he  had  come  too  late.  In  his  silent, 
sullen  way,  he  looked  at  them  in  the  Bashanyitza;  then 
he  spat  into  the  Herr  Ritter's  face  and  walked  away. 

"  Yes,  it  was  all  very  simple  for  the  Fraulein,  but  not 
for  the  Madam.  If  her  husband  only  would  have  scolded 
her  or  driven  her  from  the  house,  she  could  have  stood 
all  that;  but  that  night  he  did  not  go  to  bed;  just  walked 
up  and  down  in  the  chilly  room,  coughing  and  moaning, 
and  every  once  in  a  while  he  would  come  to  her  bed  and 
glare  at  her,  and  his  face  would  grow  red  and  he  would 
shake  his  fist  at  her.  She  wanted  to  say  to  him,  "  Strike 
me,  strike  me  hard,  that  is  what  I  deserve !  "  But  she 
feared  he  had  lost  his  mind,  for  he  would  break  out  into 
laughter  and  button  and  unbutton  his  coat  and  say :  "  Yes, 
in  America  it  is  fine !  Look  at  my  fine  watch,  look  at  the 
gold  in  my  teeth,  yes,  it  is  fine ! "  And  then  he  would 


100      SANCTUS  SPIRlTlJS  AND  COMPANY 

walk  up  and  down  again,  and  swing  his  arms  and  mut 
ter  to  himself.  At  last  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed 
and  began  to  cry  like  a  child.  The  bed  shook  under  his 
agony  of  grief,  and  she  drew  him  to  her  and  put  her  arms 
around  him  and  wept  with  him.  Moritz  had  a  golden 
heart,  a  golden,  Jewish  heart. 

As  he  lay  there  in  her  arms  still  sobbing,  he  felt  that 
he  was  the  kinsman  of  the  Prophet  Hosea,  who  dis 
covered  the  love  in  the  heart  of  Jehovah,  by  his 
anguished  love  for  Corner  the  daughter  of  Giblain,  who 
turned  harlot  and  could  not  be  weaned  from  her  harlotry. 
If  he  was  like  Hosea,  she  was  like  Corner,  and  her  re 
pentance  did  not  last;  for  her  "  goodness  was  as  a  morn 
ing  cloud  and  as  the  dew  that  goeth  early  away." 

No,  it  was  not  so  simple  as  the  Fraulein  said  it  was, 
this  great  schkandal  in  the  Casino.  Stripped  of  its  ex 
aggeration  there  was  still  enough  truth  left  in  the  nar 
rative  to  make  Madam  Redlich  feel  that  life  was  a  very 
complex  matter. 

To  Yanek  Hruby  life  seemed  exceedingly  perplexing 
when  that  morning  he  stood  before  the  Judge,  accused 
of  inciting  to  riot  Not  that  he  believed  less  in  the 
Divine  leading;  it  was  the  direction  of  which  he  was  not 
quite  so  sure.  It  had  been  easy  enough  for  his  teachers 
to  say :  "  Here  we  have  snatched  a  brand  from  the  burn 
ing,  a  promising  young  foreigner.  We  have  converted 
him,  have  given  him  a  college  education,  and  then  made 
him  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  by  teaching  him  the  alphabet 
of  sacred  tongues,  taking  him  through  semi-arid  stretches 
of  theology,  acquainting  him  with  the  millinery  of  the 
bride  of  Christ,  the  church,  and  now  he  is  to  go  out  and 
preach  the  simple  Gospel  to  his  people." 

It  is  only  fair  to  Yanek  to  say  that  he  had  glimpses 
of  the  huge  problem  in  that  "  simple  "  program  of  saving 
a  part  of  the  world;  but  it  was  like  the  entertainment 


THE  FIRST  "SCHKANDAL"  101  y 

provided  by  one  of  his  professors,  who  took  the  visiting 
student  on  a  journey  through  the  world,  with  a  stereo 
scope.  In  a  soft  easy  chair,  in  a  comfortable  if  not 
luxurious  parlor,  he  viewed  mountains  he  would  never 
climb,  rivers  he  would  never  cross,  and  sailed  over  oceans 
whose  storms  would  never  hinder  his  ship. 

He  had  been  swept  along  with  the  striking  peasants, 
and  he  was  neither  courageous  nor  cowardly  enough  to 
leave  them.  He  hoped  that  the  good  Lord,  looking  down 
upon  him,  believed  it  to  be  all  courage. 

The  loosened  oxen  shook  themselves  as  if  they  thought 
it  too  good  to  be  true  that  their  yokes  had  been  taken 
from  them  before  sundown;  then  they  promptly  attacked 
the  sugar  beets  which  they  had  helped  to  produce  and 
had  never  enjoyed.  In  this  course  of  action  they  proved 
themselves  thoroughly  converted  to  the  revolutionary 
doctrine  preached  by  the  Americans. 

Kuby  Fish,  however,  faithful  servant  of  capitalism, 
succeeded  in  driving  them  off,  but  in  so  doing  stampeded 
them.  They  had  quite  forgotten  that  they  could  run,  but 
when  they  realized  that  there  was  no  heavy  load  behind 
them,  they  swung  down  the  road  at  a  moderate  trot 
which  increased  in  momentum  as  they  went  down  hill. 
By  the  time  they  reached  the  Esplanade,  they  were  an 
irresistible  mass,  putting  the  promenaders  to  flight. 

Fortunately,  when  the  animals  reached  the  market 
place  wrapped  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  only  their  white  horns 
rising  above  it,  some  wise  master  of  stupid  oxen 
shouted;  "Whoa!"  The  maddening  rush  ceased,  and 
they  wended  their  way  peacefully  to  the  sugar  factory  as 
though  nothing  unusual  had  happened.  Long  before 
sundown  they  were  locked  into  their  stalls,  gratefully 
pulling  hay  from  the  swinging  mangers. 

Behind  the  oxen  came  the  marching  beeters.  They  did 
not  sing,  or  keep  step.  They  did  not  know  where  or  why 


102      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

they  were  marching,  but  they  knew  that  they  were  free. 
The  drunken  Americans  had  driven  away  in  Lindner's 
omnibus,  and  the  "  Salvesh,"  the  "  crazy  "  fellows  who 
refused  to  drink  Palenka  were  scattered  through  the 
marching  mass  but  had  no  steadying  influence. 

Before  the  beeters  reached  the  Esplanade,  Yanek  no 
ticed,  to  his  dismay,  that  the  men  were  picking  up  rocks. 
Then  for  the  first  time,  something  heroic  in  him  broke 
through  his  timid  indecision. 

He  stepped  out  of  the  gray,  forward  moving  cloud  and 
began  to  appeal  to  the  men  to  drop  the  rocks;  but  they 
kept  on,  not  hearing  or  heeding  him.  As  he  saw  the 
stronger  men  moving  to  the  front  and  the  women  and 
older  men  dropping  to  the  rear,  it  flashed  through  his 
mind  how,  on  the  athletic  field,  he  had  seen  order  brought 
out  of  chaos. 

He  ran  ahead,  jumped  on  to  one  of  the  benches  and 
began  swinging  his  arms  and  at  the  same  time  he  sang 
one  of  the  workers'  chants,  which  fortunately  he  had  not 
forgotten.  To  his 

"  Hey  zippy  zippy  zip — 
Hey  peasant  zippy  zip — 
Foamy  beer  and  wheaten  cakes 
Hey  zippy  zippy  zip — " 

the  formless  mass  began  to  march  in  step.  When  it 
was  in  full  swing  he  called  a  peremptory  "  Halt!  "  The 
marchers  responded  like  a  runaway  wagon  to  the  sudden 
brake. 

"  Drop  your  stones ! "  he  called  out,  and  one  by  one 
the  tense  fists  were  opened. 

Swinging  his  arms  again,  like  the  much  envied  yell 
master  during  a  football  game,  he  soon  had  them  sing 
ing  and  marching  toward  the  sugar  factory. 


THE  FIRST  "  SCHKANDAL  "  103 

News  of  the  strike  had  come  to  the  authorities  long 
before  the  beeters  reached  town,  and  they  walked  into 
the  factory  yard  between  rows  of  gendarmes.  Like  the 
oxen  before  them  they  were  driven  into  their  barracks 
and  the  heavy  doors  were  locked  after  them; — but  there 
were  no  hayracks  to  quiet  them,  and  pandemonium  broke 
loose. 

It  wasn't  freedom  they  wanted,  but  "  Chleb  " — bread. 
It  seemed  to  Yanek  that  the  whole  town  must  hear 
their  piercing  screams,  but  no  one  appeared. 

The  women  began  to  cry,  frightened  now  as  well  as 
hungry.  The  men  turned  on  Yanek — "  Why  did  he  tell 
them  to  drop  the  stones?  What  business  was  it  of  his 
anyway  ?  " 

He  would  have  suffered  violence  had  not  the  leader  of 
the  "  Salvesh  "  the  gentle,  wrinkled,  Starychek  pushed 
him  into  a  dark  corner.  His  adherents  surrounded 
Yanek,  and  the  old  man  began  pleading  with  the  angry 
beeters  not  to  hurt  the  man  who  had  saved  them  all  from 
a  worse  fate. 

It  was  dark  before  the  keys  were  turned  again,  and 
through  the  opened  door  Kuby  Fish  appeared.  Cursing 
them,  he  told  them  that  in  spite  of  their  disobedience, 
the  usual  soup  and  bread  would  be  served  them. 

As  long  as  Yanek  lived  he  remembered  with  horror 
that  night,  the  longest  night  he  ever  lived,  the  worst  and 
the  best.  The  food  had  quieted  the  peasants,  and  one 
by  one  they  stretched  out  on  the  floor,  removing  only 
their  boots; — men  and  women, — young  and  old,  together. 

The  old  men  were  soon  asleep — but  the  young  men! 
Yes,  indeed,  they  were  just  pigs.  Kuby  Fish  was  right; 
but  woe  unto  those  who  made  them  what  they  were! 
All  the  feelings  to  which  Yanek  had  been  more  than  a 
stranger  surged  through  him.  Indeed  the  men  were 
right.  What  business  was  it  of  his  to  quiet  their  tumult  ? 


104      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Why  should  they  not  throw  stones?  What  else  but  brute 
force  would  avail?  He  prayed  for  some  supernatural 
power,  some  miracle  working  gift  by  which  he  could 
change  the  wisps  of  straw  on  which  he  lay,  into  cold 
steel,  or  the  piece  of  heavy,  soggy  bread,  which  he  could 
not  eat,  into  a  bomb. 

Of  what  avail  was  their  pious  talk  in  the  seminary, 
about  the  conquering  love  of  God  ?  How  weak,  and  im 
potent,  and  bloodless  the  Christ  now  seemed  to  him — 
the  Christ  they  had  urged  upon  him  and  whose  leader 
ship  he  had  accepted.  What  idle  babbling  it  was — this 
turning  of  the  "other  cheek." 

Out  of  the  dark  a  hand  came  groping  toward  him — a 
large,  coarse  hand,  yet  the  hand  of  a  woman,  hungry  for 
a  caress,  and  he  was  in  the  mood  to  respond  to  it.  Nearer 
and  nearer  she  drew,  and  then — was  it  God's  leading — 
was  it  that  vast,  world  filling  force  stooping  to  him  again? 
How  could  he  ever  doubt  it,  when  again  and  again  it 
directed,  almost  forced  him  out  of  the  way  in  which  he 
was  determined  to  go?  It  may  have  been  chance,  pure 
blind  chance,  that  just  then  the  Starychek  lighted  a  tallow 
candle,  and  as  Yanek  looked  into  the  face  of  the  woman 
beside  him,  as  he  saw  by  the  gleam  of  the  candle,  the  evil 
light  in  her  eyes,  the  feeling  of  revulsion  came. 

God  had  saved  him!  Yet  it  was  a  terrible  night,  an 
unforgettable  night.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that 
he  was  cursed  by  a  woman. 

He  moved  over  to  the  huddled  groups  of  the  "  Sal- 
vesh."  The  Starychek  had  put  the  candle  on  the  floor 
and  began  to  read  again,  slowly  and  falter ingly,  from  the 
Gospels.  Jesus  was  speaking  against  the  law,  against 
tradition  and  customs.  Jesus  in  His  authoritative,  dry, 
cold,  heartsearching  way,  putting-  His  finder  on  the 
source  of  evil  and  revealing  the  Holy  of  Holies  within 
each  man.  "  Ye  have  heard  that  it  was  said  by  them  of 


THE  FIRST  «  SCHKANDAL  "  105 

old  time  " — (and  it  did  not  matter  to  Him  who  said  it) 
"  but  /  say  unto  you,  that  every  one  who  is  angry  with 
his  brother  without  a  cause  shall  be  in  danger  of  the 
judgment." 

Yanek  had  heard  that  before,  he  had  read  it  himself, 
out  of  big,  dignified  pulpit  Bibles,  and  out  of  little, 
smugly  bound,  limp  leather,  rice  paper  Testaments.  He 
had  heard  sermons  preached  on  those  texts,  properly  di 
luted,  skillfully  dissected.  He  had  never  heard  them  from 
lips  which  believed  it  all  and  which  accepted  the  uncom 
promising  "  But  7  say  unto  you  "  as  the  law  of  conduct. 
The  Starychek  had  closed  the  book  and  began  to  speak 
to  them. 

"  The  Christ  has  conquered  the  world  and  has  served 
it,  because  He  suffered  and  did  not  complain.  He  suf 
fered  with  love  and  joy. 

"  We  have  sinned  in  our  hearts  to-day  because  we  have 
given  room  to  anger.  We  must  repent  of  our  sins.  We 
must  do  our  hard  work  with  love,  and  suffer  without 
complaint.  Work  is  necessary.  We  must  do  that  which 
is  good  and  abstain  from  that  which  is  evil.  We  must 
speak  kindly  words  and  overcome  evil  with  good. 

"  We  are  doing  only  small  things,  but  from  the  mus 
tard  seed  grows  the  big  tree — the  Dig  tree  of  love  whose 
branches  will  shade  the  world.  May  God  aid  us  in  being 
faithful  to  Him  in  moments  of  temptation,  when  we  face 
our  enemies  or  our  friends,  when  we  are  full  or  when  we 
are  empty.  Then  it  will  be  well  for  us,  and  it  will  be  well 
for  everybody.  Now  let  us  pray  in  our  hearts." 

No  doubt  some  of  them  prayed — Yanek  prayed,  he  was 
sure  of  that.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  had  the 
feeling  that  some  Holy  Presence  filled  him,  and  though 
his  lips  did  not  move,  he  knew  he  was  praying. 


CHAPTER  TEN:  THE  TRIAL 

THE  morning  came  none  too  soon  and  he  greeted 
eagerly  every  sign  of  its  coming,  for  the  air  in  the 
barracks  was  stifling.  When  the  dawn  stole  in  through 
the  narrow  windows  and  the  sleepers  awoke,  those  who 
did  not  look  angrily  at  him  and  curse  him,  made  coarse 
jests  at  his  expense,  coupling  his  name  with  that  of  the 
woman  who  had  spent  the  night  close  to  him. 

In  the  adjoining  barns  the  oxen  were  being  fed  and 
yoked  again,  and  then  to  every  one's  relief  the  doors  of 
the  barracks  were  opened.  Cauldrons  of  hot  soup  and 
loaves  of  bread  were  brought  in,  and  these  together  with 
the  Palenka  which  was  served  in  unusually  generous 
quantities,  made  them  forget  the  ills  of  yesterday.  Some 
one  was  calling  the  roll,  and  soon  he  heard  the  beeters 
marching  away  to  their  work,  following  the  patient  oxen, 
and  singing  as  usual. 

When  Yanek's  name  was  called,  he  inwardly  resented 
the  fact  that  no  prefix  was  put  to  it,  but  after  all  he  was 
one  of  them  now,  and  could  not  expect  anything  else. 
When  he  reached  the  door,  he  faced  two  gendarmes  with 
a  warrant  for  his  arrest.  He  had  half  expected  that; 
nevertheless  it  came  to  him  with  a  shock;  he  had  to 
taste  the  first  draught  from  the  martyr's  cup,  and  that 
draught  is  always  the  bitterest.  It  grows  sweeter  the 
more  deeply  one  drinks.  He  was  marched  through  the 
streets  just  the  same  as  any  other  criminal;  the  law 
never  takes  any  chances,  and  treated  him  with  firmness 
and  determination,  as  if  he  had  been  a  dangerous  high 
wayman.  A  prisoner  is  a  prisoner,  and  neither  the 

106 


THE  TRIAL  107 

gendarmes  nor  the  gaping  populace  made  any  fine  dis 
tinctions. 

He  could  stand  the  jests  and  slurs  cast  upon  his 
profession,  but  he  was  deeply  hurt  when  the  little  children 
shrank  from  him,  seeming  more  afraid  of  him  than  of 
the  gendarmes  with  their  fixed  bayonets.  The  worst  of 
the  seemingly  interminable  journey  was  the  fact  that  he 
had  to  pass  the  Pan's  house.  From  a  distance  he  saw  his 
mother,  and  as  he  came  nearer  he  noticed  how  shrunken 
and  old  she  looked.  Marisha  was  standing  there,  and 
Pepo  and  the  derelict  old  men  and  women  of  the  hospice 
and  the  little  idiotic  girl. 

Marisha  made  a  face  at  him  and  called  him  a  "  Sal- 
vesh."  Pepo  laughed  at  that,  his  hollow,  loud  laugh 
which  seemed  to  echo  in  his  brainless  head.  Yanek  was 
grateful  that  none  of  the  Pan's  people  were  watching  for 
him;  in  fact  the  windows  were  closed  and  the  curtains 
drawn.  His  mother  threw  herself  into  his  arms  un 
afraid  and  unashamed,  and  when  the  gendarmes  tried  to 
separate  them,  she  turned  upon  them  with  an  animal 
fierceness  which  was  as  much  a  surprise  to  him  as  it  was 
to  the  guardians  of  the  law. 

His  father  was  not  so  affectionate.  He  saw  his  pres 
tige  vanished.  No  chance  now  that  he  would  hear  his 
son  preach,  and  no  matter  whether  he  was  guilty  of  this 
thing  or  not,  whatever  it  was,  Andrew  Feher,  always  his 
foe,  would  have  a  new  and  sharper  taunt  at  his  disposal. 
He  did  not  follow  his  son.  He  had  been  commanded  by 
the  Pan  to  harness  the  horses,  come  up  to  the  courthouse 
and  wait  for  orders.  He  went  back  to  the  stable  shaking 
his  head,  mourning  the  passing  of  his  reflected  glory, 
and  when  Martzin  the  groom  told  him,  that  was  all  one 
could  expect  from  a  boy  who  stole  honeycakes  at  the 
fair,  he  threw  a  pitchfork  at  him,  narrowly  missing  his 
head.  The  little  idiotic  child  ran  after  the  dreary  pro- 


108      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

cession,  hopping  like  a  bird,  with  her  arms  extended  as  if 
she  were  flying,  making  inarticulate  sounds  which  perhaps 
the  birds  understood.  It  was  a  long  and  cruel  walk  up  the 
dusty  street.  When  they  passed  the  Redlich  mansion, 
Mortiz  Redlich  was  just  going  to  the  distillery,  and  he 
stopped  for  a  moment  to  ask  Yanek  whether  he  was  still 
feeling  "  fine."  His  mother  quickly  enlightened  the  old 
man  as  to  the  cause  of  her  son's  arrest  (which  he  knew), 
and  he  began  to  cough  nervously;  then  instead  of  going 
to  the  office,  he  turned  and  walked  toward  the  Catholic 
Church,  disappearing  through  the  door  of  the  par 
sonage. 

The  few  hours  Yanek  spent  in  the  jail  were  made  bear 
able  by  the  fact  that  it  was  not  a  worse  place  than  the 
barracks,  and  that  Dr.  Makutchky  appeared,  bringing 
with  him  an  attorney,  Dr.  Finor.  He  was  one  of  the  few 
educated  Slovaks  who  had  not  succumbed  to  the  pressure 
of  the  Magyars,  and  was  known  as  a  fearless  and  just 
advocate ;  indeed  he  was  the  only  legal  adviser  whom  the 
Slovaks  could  trust.  His  clients  being  poor,  he  was 
content  with  small  fees  or  none,  and  as  Yanek  looked 
into  his  finely  modeled  face  with  its  clear  and  kindly  eyes, 
he  knew  his  cause  was  in  good  hands.  It  was  too  good 
an  occasion  for  Dr.  Makutchky  to  let  pass  without  ex 
pressing  his  views  about  the  State,  and  he  did  so  in  his 
usual  vigorous  way. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  had  urgent  business  that  morning 
at  the  parsonage,  Father  Anton  Kalman  having  sum 
moned  him,  and  on  the  way  there  he  seemed  very  much 
agitated  and  wasted  an  unusual  number  of  matches  in 
lighting  his  pipe. 

Yanek  had  never  come  in  contact  with  the  majesty  of 
the  law,  and  had  never  been  in  a  court  room ;  so  when  he 
was  ushered  in,  it  affected  him  in  the  same  way  as  when 
one  time  he  had  been  in  an  operating  room  in  the  hospital, 


THE  TRIAL  109 

with  one  of  his  friends.  The  room  revolved  around  him. 
He  saw  the  Judge,  a  yellow  skinned,  pudgy,  fiercely 
mustached  man,  his  small  eyes  and  square  face  betraying 
the  Asiatic  blood  which  had  been  nearly  bred  out  of  his 
race  by  its  intermixture  with  other  peoples.  But  to 
Yanek  he  seemed  to  expand,  and  he  looked  like  one  of 
those  figures  distorted  by  a  concave  mirror.  Yanek 
thought  he  heard  the  swash  of  the  Pan's  leather  breeches, 
the  nervous  cough  of  Moritz  Redlich,  and  before  the 
court  was  formally  opened,  the  third  member  of  Sanctus 
Spiritus  and  Company  was  tapping  his  snuff  tobacco  box, 
once,  and  the  tap  was  followed  by  a  vigorous  sneeze.  At 
that  moment,  had  it  not  been  for  Dr.  Makutchky,  the 
prisoner  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground.  Some  one 
brought  him  a  glass  of  water;  he  thought  it  was  Chris 
tina,  but  it  was  his  mother's  hand  he  touched. 

The  majesty  of  the  law !  No  wonder  it  needs  a  pomp 
ous  setting !  How  much  red  tape,  how  many  preambles, 
what  vain  repetitions  before  it  is  ready  to  operate;  and 
how  many  paragraphs  this  and  paragraphs  that,  have  to 
be  read;  how  it  looks  back  to  view  the  past,  and  how  it 
closes  its  eyes  to  the  future ! 

Yanek  felt  none  of  the  exaltation  which  the  school 
master  experienced  when  he  was  in  a  similar  predicament. 
He  did  not  feel  above  these  people,  but  one  of  them, 
with  no  pride,  and  a  profound  pity  for  all  who  thought 
it  necessary  to  pervert  the  truth  and  invent  lies  in  order 
to  convict  him.  One  might  have  thought  that  the  very 
foundations  of  the  State  would  tremble  and  fall  unless 
the  defendant  were  found  guilty. 

This  then  was  human  nature,  this  venomous,  poison 
ous  thing,  which  he  had  idealized  and  believed  to  be  a 
part  of  the  Divine.  A  woman  appeared  on  the  witness 
stand  and  testified  that  it  was  he  who  had  given  Palenka 
to  the  beeters,  and  told  them  that  they  were  working  for 


110      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Magyar  pigs,  and  that  at  night,  in  the  barracks,  he  had 
attacked  her. 

Then  something  seemed  to  break  within  him,  and  no 
longer  able  to  control  himself,  he  shouted :  "  She  lies ! " 
His  mother  rushed  at  the  woman  and  only  the  stern  com 
mand  of  the  Judge  to  restrain  herself  kept  her  from  do 
ing  the  witness  bodily  injury.  The  spectators  loudly 
voiced  their  opinions  and  the  room  was  in  such  an 
uproar  that  it  was  with  difficulty  the  court  restored  order. 
In  the  meantime  the  witnesses  for  the  defense  were  being 
brought  back  from  the  beet  field. 

Never  before  had  Stephan  Hruby  so  urged  his  horses 
as  on  that  day.  When  he  passed  the  Redlich  home  he 
saw  Andrew  Feher  looking  after  him,  wondering 
whether  the  old  Slovak  had  gone  mad.  The  horses 
themselves  must  have  been  reminded  of  their  young 
days  when  they  needed  no  urging  to  keep  up  such  a  pace. 

The  first  witness  for  the  defense  was  the  Starychek, 
and  he  was  the  only  man  who  took  the  stand  without 
fear.  He  held  his  head  erect,  and  when  the  court  asked 
him  to  take  the  oath  he  refused.  "  The  Gospel  says : 
'  Thou  shalt  not  forswear  thyself/  " 

The  Judge  reminded  him  that  he  was  face  to  face  with 
a  representative  of  the  Hungarian  Government  to  which 
he  courteously  replied  that  he  was  also  face  to  face  with 
the  Divine  Government,  and  that  he  "  preferred  to  dis 
obey  the  court  rather  than  the  Almighty." 

"Had  he  ever  before  refused  to  obey  the  court?" 
He  had,  upon  this  same  question.  Then  he  had  been  sent 
to  prison  and  he  was  ready  to  go  again.  He  would  take 
no  oath  but  he  would  say  "  Yea,  yea,  and  Nay,  nay/' 

There  was  a  long  wrangle  between  the  Judge  and 
Dr.  Finor  but  the  court  did  not  permit  the  Starychek  to 
testify. 

The  next  witness  had  no  objection  to  taking  an  oath. 


THE  TRIAL  111 

Oaths  were  natural  to  him;  but  he  was  badly  frightened 
by  the  court,  and  remembered  little  or  nothing.  He  was 
more  or  less  under  the  influence  of  liquor  and  contra 
dicted  himself  a  number  of  times.  The  only  thing  he 
knew  was  that  a  woman  cursed  the  defendant  that  night, 
and  that  they  all  laughed  and  joked  about  it  in  the 
morning. 

The  next  witness  had  a  little  clearer  idea  in  his  head; 
but  he  was  guarding  his  own  hide;  for  when  he  was 
asked  whether  he  picked  up  stones  without  being  told  to, 
he  replied  that  he  was  told  to  by  some  one,  but  he  did  not 
quite  know  who  it  was.  It  might  have  been  the  defend 
ant. 

Matters  were  not  looking  especially  favorable  for 
Yanek;  the  court  was  frankly  prejudiced  against  him. 
Baron  Smertzing  as  Crown  Notary  was  present,  and  he 
passed  written  slips  of  paper  to  His  Honor  which  that 
worthy  frequently  consulted  as  he  asked  questions. 
There  was  a  moment  of  silence  after  the  last  witness  had 
been  examined,  and  then  there  was  a  sound  as  of  some 
one  knocking  on  the  floor.  It  was  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky 
emptying  his  Dresdenska.  This  was  followed  by  the 
usual  cough  proceeding  from  the  direction  where  Moritz 
Redlich  sat,  and  then  the  Reverend  Father  Anton  Kalman 
solemnly  tapped  his  snuff  tobacco  box  three  times;  but 
he  did  not  sneeze.  His  Reverence  had  risen  and  asked 
the  court  for  the  privilege  of  testifying.  He  too  had  no 
compunctions  about  oaths  on  such  occasions,  and  then 
he  tapped  his  snuff  tobacco  box  but  once,  and  a  vigorous 
sneeze  followed.  The  court  was  polite  enough  to  wish 
His  Reverence  good  health,  and  the  permission  to  testify 
was  granted.  As  it  happened,  His  Reverence  began,  he 
and  his  two  well  known  friends  were  out  shooting  pheas 
ants;  that  is,  they  were  out  hunting,  to  be  perfectly  cor 
rect.  As  they  emerged  from  the  Bashanyitza  beyond  the 


112      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Hussite  chapel,  they  saw  the  beeters  crowding  around 
Lindner's  omnibus,  and  Lindner  himself  was  here  to  cor 
roborate  his  statement.  In  the  omnibus  were  some  men; 
they  were  recently  returned  immigrants  and  had  been 
celebrating  their  return  in  the  usual  fashion,  and  had 
brought  with  them  a  large  number  of  bottles  of  Palenka. 
Lindner  could  tell  the  court  how  many.  He  and  his 
friends  had  heard  these  men  haranguing  the  beeters,  and 
it  was  at  the  solicitation  of  the  immigrants  that  they 
threw  down  their  tools,  loosened  the  oxen  and  marched 
into  town. 

He  and  his  honored  confreres  marched  after  them, 
fearing  trouble.  Just  as  they  came  to  the  Esplanade  the 
men  stopped  to  pick  up  rocks,  and  were  swinging  them 
with  menacing  gestures.  It  was  the  defendant  whom 
they  saw  step  on  to  one  of  the  benches  and  plead  with 
the  men  to  drop  the  stones ;  but  they  would  not.  At  that 
point,  His  Reverence  said,  he  cut  across  the  cemetery  to 
reach  town  quickly,  because  he  was  afraid  they  would 
cause  serious  trouble  when  they  reached  there,  and  it  was 
he  who  notified  the  gendarmes.  If  the  court  so  desired, 
Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  who  was  also  present,  would  con 
tinue  the  testimony. 

There  were  further  ceremonials  of  taking  the  oath  and 
of  the  Pan's  knocking  his  pipe  on  the  nearest  hard  sur 
face,  which  happened  to  be  the  desk  of  the  court  itself, 
and  His  Honor  snorted  at  the  Pan  as  if  it  had  been  his 
head  which  was  being  assaulted. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  continued  the  narrative,  that  is, 
he  would  have  continued  it,  but  the  court  knows  no  short 
cuts,  and  he  had  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  which  gave 
him  an  opportunity  to  say  a  few  uncomplimentary  things 
about  emigration  in  general  and  about  those  immigrants 
in  particular,  and  also  a  few  words  about  the  demoraliz 
ing  effects  of  sugar  beets.  However,  his  testimony 


THE  TRIAL  113 

added  little  to  that  of  Father  Kalrnan,  for  when  the 
orderly  procession  reached  the  Pan's  house  he  had  not 
gone  further,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself  and  to 
his  family.  Moritz  Redlich  was  at  the  court's  disposal 
and  he  could  tell  the  rest  of  the  story. 

Moritz  Redlich  being  a  Jew,  the  court  paraphernalia 
had  to  be  changed  before  he  took  his  oath.  The  crucifix 
was  veiled,  the  Holy,  much  kissed  and  complete  Bible 
was  removed,  and  the  Old  Testament  in  Hebrew  script 
took  its  place.  Moritz  Redlich  was  not  so  eloquent  as  his 
friends  and  he  was  coughing  harder  than  usual;  but  he 
could  convey  this  fact  to  the  knowledge  of  the  court: 
1  That  at  the  very  least,  the  Sugar  Trust  owes  the  de 
fendant  an  apology;  for  if  it  had  not  been  for  him,  the 
glazier  would  be  a  few  hundred  Crowns  richer,  and  it, 
correspondingly  poorer."  When  Moritz  Redlich  resumed 
his  seat,  the  defendant  was  asked  to  testify  in  his  own 
behalf,  and  he  had  not  spoken  half  a  dozen  sentences 
before  the  court  room  was  as  quiet  as  a  church. 

He  had  no  grievance  against  those  who  bore  false 
witness;  they  had  been  lied  to  all  their  lives  and  lived  in 
a  polluted  atmosphere.  He  did  quiet  the  mob  and  he  did 
deplore  violence,  but  he  wanted  the  court  to  know  how 
these  people  were  treated,  and  if  he  had  wronged  the 
woman  who  accused  him  he  would  not  have  been  the 
only  man  who  wronged  her  that  night.  The  barracks 
were  a  disgrace  and  a  menace  to  society.  The  people 
were  living  in  a  pernicious  atmosphere  and  the  court 
ought  to  take  cognizance  of  it.  Then  he  indicted  the 
Sugar  Trust  for  treating  its  workers  like  animals ;  in 
fact,  he  said,  the  oxen  were  treated  in  a  more  humane 
manner  that  the  beeters. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  knocked  his  Dresdenska  so  hard 
on  his  boot  heel  that  it  nearly  broke,  and  he  whispered 
something  to  Moritz  Redlich.  Father  Anton  Kalman 


114      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

again  took  snuff,  tapping  the  box  gracefully  three  times. 
The  crowd  began  to  applaud,  and  for  the  second  time  the 
court  called  to  order. 

To  Yanek  there  came  a  feeling  of  exaltation  after  he 
had  expressed  his  moral  indignation.  He  looked  around 
the  court  room,  and  although  there  were  sullen  looks 
enough,  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company  smiled  upon  him 
and  he  was  content.  Yet  he  could  not  help  wishing  that 
Christina  might  have  heard  his  plea  for  justice  to  the 
beeters. 

The  court  again  consulted  paragraph  this  and  statute 
that,  looked  at  various  formidable  documents,  and  finally 
the  Judge  declared  that  the  defendant  was  not  guilty: 
"but  inasmuch  as  his  home  has  been  searched  and  some 
printed  matter  found,  which  may  be  incriminating,  the 
said  defendant  must  be  put  under  police  surveillance, 
and  not  permitted  to  leave  the  town,  till  a  decision  is 
received  from  Budapest." 

The  first  person  to  reach  the  defendant  to  offer  con 
gratulations  was  the  Pan,  and  the  fact  that  he  lighted  his 
pipe  with  one  match,  showed  the  high  sprits  he  was  in; 
for  sugar  beets  had  received  their  first  public  indictment, 
and  the  world  was  surely  growing  better. 

Moritz  Redlich  shook  Yanek' s  hand  and  said  "  In 
Hungary  it  is  fine  too,  isn't  it?  "  as  a  smile  passed  over 
his  sad  and  wrinkled  face.  His  Reverence  came  also, 
and  opening  the  snuff  tobacco  box  in  his  most  impressive 
manner,  offered  it  to  Yanek.  Of  course  he  could  not 
refuse. 

"  To  your  health,  your  Reverence,"  he  said,  as  all  too 
vigorously  he  inhaled  the  pungent  stuff,  and  when  his 
mother  at  last  had  a  chance  to  throw  herself  into  his 
arms,  he  was  in  no  condition  to  be  kissed,  and  it  was  not 
the  first  time  in  her  life  that  she  offered  her  son  her 
handkerchief. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN:  VAVRA'S  BUTCHER  SHOP 

BACK  of  Vavra's  butcher  shop,  Pan  Vavra  sold  wine 
of  native  vintage,  and  a  scraggly  pine  bough  badly 
battered  by  many  winds  and  hanging  from  a  staff,  an 
nounced  that  fact.  However,  the  wine  of  Hraszova, 
made  from  grapes  growing  on  the  foot-hills  of  the  Car 
pathian  mountains,  was  a  thin,  puckery  fluid ;  "  brittle/' 
the  connoisseurs  called  it,  quite  like  the  Slovaks  who  had 
grown  up  in  the  same  environment,  and  only  the  Slovaks 
found  it  palatable.  The  peasants  craved  something 
stronger  than  Vavra's  shop  offered,  something  which  bit 
and  stung  and  burned  all  the  way  down,  and  the  few  pen 
nies  they  could  spare  for  drink  passed  across  the  counter 
of  the  Jewish  tavern  keeper. 

The  Magyar  aristocrats  had  their  Casino,  "the  Jews 
who  were  not  admitted  to  it,  organized  one  of  their  own, 
and  the  Slovaks,  who  represented  various  occupations, 
and  whose  clothes  marked  them  as  burghers  and  not  as 
peasants,  went  to  Vavra's. 

There  were  bootmakers,  who  made  the  heavy,  horse 
hide,  shapeless  boots  of  the  peasants.  Their  business 
was  all  but  ruined  because  the  immigrants  brought  back 
shapely,  American  shoes  which  were  infinitely  more  com 
fortable,  and,  strange  to  say,  more  lasting. 

There  were  weavers  of  blue  cloth,  a  thick,  tough,  un 
yielding  stuff,  from  which  the  Sunday  breeches  of  the 
peasants  were  made,  the  cloth  being  warranted  to  last 
through  many  generations  of  Sundays.  That  was  be 
fore  dyes  and  acids  were  imported  from  Germany,  and 

115 


116      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

they  were  all  produced  at  home  with  infinite  labor,  ac 
companied  by  unspeakable  odors. 

The  H alii nary  also  patronized  Vavra's.  They  made 
nothing  but  white  cloth  coats,  so  badly  shaped  that  the 
sleeves  were  practically  useless,  unless  one  needed  a  strait- 
jacket.  The  coat  was  therefore  worn  as  sort  of  a  mantle 
over  the  sheepskin  coat,  which  was  made  by  the  Koshu- 
chary,  and  they,  being  Jews,  never  came  to  Vavra's. 

Besides  these,  there  were  several  shopkeepers,  a  few 
landowners  whose  holdings  were  large  enough  to  require 
hired  help,  and  one  baker,  whose  rolls  were  taboo  among 
the  Jews,  because  he  put  lard  into  them.  Every  once  in 
a  while  some  of  the  Magyarized  Slovaks  would  slip  in 
under  cover  of  the  night,  to  eat  Panyi  Vavra's  Petchenka 
and  take  a  drink  or  two  of  wine ;  for  the  stomach  remains 
strangely  unaffected  by  a  transfer  of  one's  political 
loyalty. 

On  the  whole  it  was  a  safe  place  for  the  leaders  of 
Slovakdom  to  gather  and  talk  about  their  wrongs,  of 
which  there  were  many.  The  right  of  political  assembly 
was  denied  them;  suffrage  was  so  skillfully  hedged  about 
as  to  give  the  ruling  minority  the  offices,  without  the 
necessity  of  counting  the  votes;  in  the  primary  schools, 
the  Magyar  language  had  to  be  taught,  to  the  neglect  of 
the  mother  tongue,  and  Slovak  secondary  schools  did 
not  exist.  So  there  was  much  to  talk  about  eVery  evening 
in  that  plainly  furnished  room  back  of  Vavra's  butcher 
shop,  and,  on  a  particular  evening  when  Yanek  was  the 
guest  of  honor,  they  discussed  among  other  things,  the 
coming  parliamentary  election. 

Since  his  arrest  and  trial,  his  indecision  had  van 
ished,  except  when  he  faced  Christina.  Her  mental 
poise,  coupled  with  her  preoccupation,  kept  him  as  re 
served  as  she  was.  "  She  has  the  mind  of  a  man  and  the 
heart  of  a  mother,"  Dr.  Makutchky  used  to  say,  and  he 


VAVRA'S  BUTCHER  SHOP  117 

was  a  keen  diagnostician.  "  She  will  marry  either  a  very 
unfortunate  man  who  needs  her  to  take  care  of  him,  or 
one  who  is  in  every  way  her  superior,  and  the  latter  kind 
is  exceedingly  rare,"  he  added,  suspecting  Yanek's 
problem. 

Christina  was  not  satisfied  to  let  Yanek's  public  protest 
against  the  treatment  of  the  beeters  pass  unnoticed  after 
it  was  uttered.  She  immediately  began  to  create  public 
opinion,  and  wrote  a  graphic  article  which  appeared  in 
one  of  the  Budapest  newspapers  having  the  largest  cir 
culation  among  thinking  people.  She  followed  this  by  a 
signed  protest  directed  to  the  Minister  of  Labor,  and  in 
it  she  cleverly  intimated  that  anti-Magyar  propaganda 
throve  on  such  mistreatment.  In  an  incredibly  short  time 
an  order  came  from  that  source,  abolishing  the  barracks. 

Christina  had  definite  plans  for  organizing  co-operative 
societies,  not  only  to  eliminate  the  middleman,  but 
also  to  develop  the  spirit  of  solidarity,  and  strengthen  the 
rather  weak  sense  of  initiative  among  her  people.  With 
all  this  intellectual  force,  there  was  a  tender,  mystic  piety 
about  her,  which  kept  her  all  woman,  her  weakness  be 
coming  strength  in  her  conscious  communion  with  God. 

Nowhere  in  her  scheme  did  Yanek  see  any  room  for 
himself,  and  at  Babushka's  meeting  which  he  attended, 
he  realized  that  there,  he  had  nothing  to  give.  They  all 
had  a  childlike  faith;  his  was  shot  through  by  a  little 
learning.  His  Christ  was  an  influence,  theirs  was  a 
power ;  he  knew  a  great  deal  about  the  Logos;  they  knew 
The  Word  which  was  from  the  beginning,  though  they 
hadn't  the  slightest  idea  just  why  John  wrote  the  pro 
logue  to  the  Gospel  which  bears  his  name.  He  could  pray 
eloquently,  they  talked  to  God;  for  He  was  with  them 
in  the  very  room  in  which  they  were  meeting;  his  God 
was  imminent,  though  he  was  never  clear  just  what  that 
meant. 


118      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

In  Christina,  this  world  and  the  other  world  met; 
while  in  him,  they  were  far  apart.  There  was  a  certain 
kind  of  intellectual  dishonesty  in  his  thinking,  of  which 
he  always  became  painfully  conscious  when  he  talked  to 
her.  The  leaven  of  hypocrisy  had  touched  him  though 
he  had  another  and  more  scientific  name  for  it.  She  was 
a  Slav,  her  mind  had  no  hiding  places ;  he  was  a  Slav  con 
verted  into  an  Anglo-Saxon,  and  he  had  been  made  to 
believe  that  he  was  a  Christian. 

Dr.  Makutchky's  revulsion  against  Nationalism  he  did 
not  share;  for  he  had  drunk  too  deeply  from  a  still  un 
polluted  spring  over  there  in  the  United  States,  where  it 
was  welding  and  shaping  a  nation  out  of  many  peoples. 
Too  often,  with  inner  gratitude  and  sincere  loyalty,  he 
had  sung  "  My  country  'tis  of  thee,"  and  he  had  not 
yet  sensed  the  "  fatal  European  disease,"  as  the  doctor 
called  it,  which  was  leading  the  nations  to  the  great 
abyss. 

The  schoolmaster  was  still  the  schoolmaster,  by  whose 
bedside  he  felt  the  strengthening  and  ennobling  influence 
of  an  unselfish  and  holy  purpose,  and  as  he  became  con 
scious  of  the  wrongs  of  his  people,  there  came  to  him 
the  call  to  leadership.  When  he  was  honest  with  himself, 
and  that  was  not  infrequently,  he  realized  that  his  motive 
was  not  altogether  unselfish,  that  he  had  tasted  the  glory 
of  suffering  for  a  cause,  and  that  he  was  hungry  for  more 
of  it.  So  it  happened  that  he  was  at  Vavra's  wine  shop, 
talking  politics,  and  it  was  no  small  sop  to  his  vanity  to 
find  that  he  was  being  consulted  by  his  elders,  about  the 
coming  campaign. 

What  silent  men  these  square  faced  Slovaks  were; 
how  distrustful  of  themselves  and  of  each  other,  how 
honestly  conscious  of  their  own  faults  and  with  it  what 
lack  of  confidence  in  their  virtues.  There  was  only  one 
firebrand  in  Vavra's  wine  shop,  and  he  was  the 


VAVRA'S  BUTCHER  SHOP  119 

Bohemian  candymaker,  Wenzel  Motichka;  but  one  was 
enough. 

The  Slovaks  and  the  Czechs  are  cousins,  but  they  are 
more  like  grandfather  and  grandson,  the  Slovak  easily 
being  the  older,  the  sadder,  the  more  disillusioned,  the 
less  progressive. 

Just  what  made  the  difference,  climate?  There  isn't 
much  choice  between  the  rigor  of  the  Carpathians  and 
that  of  the  Bohemian  hills. 

History  ?  Perhaps ;  but  history  means  more  than  who 
was  the  first  or  last  king,  or  what  battles  were  fought 
here  or  there.  It  means,  primarily,  who  were  the  enemies 
they  faced  when  they  battled,  and  who  it  was  that  con 
quered  them. 

To  be  invaded  by  the  Germans  and  not  by  the  Turks 
and  Magyars;  to  bear  a  yoke  scientifically  fitted,  rather 
than  drag  at  a  heavy,  wearing  chain ;  to  have  masters  who 
know  something  more  than  their  alphabet,  or  to  have 
those  who  have  none;  that  may  account  for  the  differ 
ence.  Yet  it  may  be  true  that  the  mythical  Czech,  the 
forerunner  of  the  one  race,  was  naturally  a  fighter,  a 
rebel;  and  that  Mech  or  Lech,  who  were  his  brothers 
and  the  supposed  ancestors  of  the  other  Slavs,  were  the 
gentle,  yielding,  patient  plowmen  which  all  their  descend 
ants  are. 

Whatever  the  cause,  and  there  is  no  cause,  there  are 
causes,  the  fact  is  that  the  Czech  is  the  one  dominant 
figure  in  Slavdom.  He  carries  a  "  chip  on  his  shoulder," 
and  he  is  like  an  Irishman,  fiddle,  fight,  drink  and  sing; 
but  there  the  resemblance  ceases,  for  he  lacks  the  Irish 
man's  sense  of  humor  and  his  prodigality. 

Wenzel  Motichka,  the  candymaker  was  a  Czech,  an 
intensified  Czech,  who  knew  the  history  of  Bohemia  for 
ward  and  backward  and  who  had  taken  it  upon  himself 
to  educate  the  Slovaks  of  Hraszova.  He  was  accused  by 


120      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

his  enemies  of  being  there  to  make  propaganda,  but 
that  was  not  the  truth.  He  made  propaganda  because  he 
was  there,  just  as  every  Bohemian  makes  it,  wherever 
he  is  placed  in  this  universe. 

He  was  not  gentle  with  them,  that  is  not  the  way  of 
the  Bohemian.  He  called  them  names;  rightly  or 
wrongly,  he  called  them  fools  and  asses,  and  the  pathetic 
thing  was,  that  nobody  at  Vavra's  resented  it.  Even  if 
they  felt  the  insult,  who  among  them  had  courage  enough 
to  face  the  wrath  of  Wenzel? 

He  had  been  holding  forth  for  a  long  time  that  night, 
and  the  burden  of  his  speech  was  that  now  was  the  time 
to  strike.  The  monarchy  was  on  its  last  legs.  The  Em 
peror-King,  a  sad,  fascinating  figure,  was  in  his  dotage, 
and  Francis  Ferdinand,  the  heir  apparent,  was  follow 
ing  Germany  in  arming  the  nation  and  creating  a  fleet; 
all,  to  make  German  dominance  permanent.  Bosnia  and 
Herzegovina  had  been  annexed  by  the  signatory  powers 
without  the  consent  of  the  inhabitants.  The  army  \vas  all 
but  mobilized  and  its  maneuvers  were  near  the  Serbian 
front. 

The  Southern  Slavs  were  awakening,  and  there  was 
active  propaganda  everywhere.  They  must  become  the 
lords  of  their  own  land,  and  if  the  Slavs  did  not  stand 
together,  who  should  ?  They  must  stand  for  their  rights 
and  cling  to  their  language. 

Wenzel  was  eloquent,  and  his  eloquence  was  as  acrid 
and  intoxicating  as  Pan  Vavra's  wine.  "  Language,"  he 
cried,  with  upraised  glass;  "the  Slav  language!  Long 
may  it  live !  "  And  the  toast  was  drunk  amid  an  uproar 
of  applause. 

People  have  fought  for  dominion,  for  wealth,  for 
religion;  but  none  have  fought  for  language  as  have  the 
Bohemians,  and  the  more  wine  Wenzel  drank,  the  more 
it  became  his  theme.  "  The  German  language  is  only  a 


VAVRA'S  BUTCHER  SHOP  121 

re-hash  of  the  Bohemian,  and  when  I  say  Bohemian  of 
course  I  mean  Slovak."  This  to  allay  any  possible  hurt. 

"  Take  the  word  Okno,  window,  it  is  as  old  as  the 
ark  of  Noah,  and  the  Germans  got  their  word  Auge  from 
our  Okno. 

"  Take  the  word  for  plow,  which  is  Pluck.  The 
Bohemians,  and  beg  your  pardon,  the  Slovaks  also, 
plowed  their  fields  when  the  Germans  knew  nothing 
about  agriculture;  and  from  whom  have  they  the  word 
PHug,  but  from  the  Bohemians? — beg  your  pardon,  I 
mean  Slovaks  too. 

"  Take  another  word,  home,  Dom.  When  the  Germans 
lived  in  caves  and  had  no  such  word,  the  Bohemians,  and 
beg  your  pardon,  the  Slovaks,  had  a  doni;  and  now  the 
Germans,  when  they  talk  of  the  House  of  God,  a  real 
respectable  House  of  God,  speak  of  the  Dom." 

His  etymology  was  faulty,  but  his  appeal  to  Slav  pride 
of  precedence  was  effective,  and  more  sour  wine  was 
consumed,  and  the  silent  Slovaks  shook  their  heads  and 
said :  "  Tak,  tak! "  though  they  had  heard  this  particular 
preachment  more  than  once. 

Of  course  he  could  not  finish  his  talk  without  propos 
ing  that  they  sing  "  Hey  Slovane,"  the  Slav  revolutionary 
hymn,  and  it  was  only  when  Panyi  Vavra  came  running 
in  and  warned  them  that  the  gendarmes  patrol  was  pass 
ing,  that  he  was  silenced. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  blind,  futile  talk,  as  there 
always  is  on  such  occasions,  and  then  Pan  Brunovsky, 
the  wealthiest  of  the  shopkeepers,  suggested  that  they 
hear  from  their  honored  guest  from  America.  It  was 
after  all,  to  America  they  had  to  look  for  their  salvation. 
America  was  waking  them  up,  from  America  the  immi 
grants  brought  not  only  money  but  also  the  feeling  of 
power.  In  America  was  the  big  propaganda  for  their 
national  independence.  Many  of  their  countrymen  had 


122      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

returned,  but  none  of  them  as  illustrious  as  their  guest 
to-night,  and  now  they  would  drink  to  the  health  of  the 
Reverend  Pan  Hruby,  and  of  course  he  must  make  a 
speech  and  tell  them  all  about  their  countrymen  in 
America. 

During  the  last  week  Yanek  had  traveled  swiftly  back 
to  his  countrymen.  It  wasn't  a  "  million  leagues  or  so," 
as  the  schoolmaster  had  said,  that  he  had  been  away  from 
his  people ;  a  few  steps,  imperceptibly  taken,  had  brought 
him  back,  and  though  he  had,  until  now,  resisted  the 
constant  temptation  to  drink,  he  could  not  refuse  when 
the  men  proposed  his  health.  So  he  clinked  his  glass 
with  theirs,  going  all  around,  and  said  "  Na  zdrav  "  and 
drank  with  them,  and  the  result  was  that  he  talked  elo 
quently  as  always,  that  he  said  more  than  he  believed 
and  that  he  drank  more  than  was  good  for  him. 

When  he  finished  speaking  they  believed  that  he  knew 
a  thing  or  two,  and  more  about  politics  than  he  really 
did  know;  for  outside  the  fact  that  he  had  heard  a  few 
political  speeches  and  knew  something  about  govern 
ment,  having  had  a  course  in  Political  Science,  and  that 
he  had  had  a  share  in  rather  innocent  college  politics,  he 
had  as  little  experience  as  they  themselves. 

The  Slovak  party  would  put  up  a  candidate  at  the 
coming  election  though  there  was  little  hope  of  electing 
him,  the  ballot  box  being  always  manipulated  in  favor  of 
the  national  candidate;  but  they  would  try  again  if  only 
as  a  matter  of  protest.  A  man  had  been  proposed,  they 
said,  who  resided  in  one  of  the  northern  counties ;  but  no 
one  knew  anything  about  him.  Then  Yanek  had  an 
inspiration.  It  was  the  American  idea  of  having  a  man 
nominated  who  knew  the  district  because  he  resided  in 
it,  and  he  named,  as  the  best  man  in  the  whole  kingdom, 
Pan  Yan  Szenitzky.  Indeed,  why  had  no  one  thought 
of  that  grand  old  man  before?  Honest,  a  Slovak  every 


VAVRA'S  BUTCHER  SHOP  123 

inch  of  him,  even  refusing  a  Baronetcy  to  save  his  Slovak 
name.  So  it  was  resolved  to  push  his  candidacy,  pro 
vided  he  would  accept.  That  could  with  perfect  safety 
be  left  to  Yanek,  that  and  a  number  of  other  things. 

A  house  to  house  canvass  of  the  whole  district  was  to 
be  begun  at  once,  flags  and  posters  must  be  in  evidence, 
watchers  for  the  polls  secured,  and  above  all  else,  a 
definite  declaration  on  the  part  of  both  candidates  as  to 
their  views  regarding  the  rights  of  the  Slovaks.  Just 
who  would  do  all  this  and  how  it  should  be  done,  was  not 
quite  clear  to  Yanek,  but  he  knew  it  would  be  done,  for 
every  time  he  spoke,  he  gained  more  courage,  the  num 
ber  of  times  he  had  to  drink  some  one's  health  having 
perhaps  something  to  do  with  it. 

The  night  watchman  blew  the  latest  hour  of  the  night 
when  the  Slovak  dignitaries  closed  their  session  at 
Vavra's  wine  shop,  and  Yanek  walked  home  arm  in  arm 
with  Pan  Brunovsky,  who  called  him  the  savior  of 
Slovakdom  and  praised  his  eloquence  and  the  keenness 
of  his  mind.  As  Yanek  passed  the  Pan's  house,  he 
thought  he  saw  a  dim  light  in  the  very  window  which, 
on  the  morning  after  his  return  home,  he  had  seen  a 
beautiful  arm  encircled  by  a  bit  of  lace.  Then  he  had 
looked  away;  now  he  threw  a  kiss  at  Sonya's  window. 

His  father  was  sound  asleep  when  he  reached  home, 
but  his  mother  was  anxious  about  her  son,  and  wide 
awake.  She  wondered  just  why  he  was  in  such  a  happy 
mood.  When  he  was  in  bed  and  still  thinking  of  the 
events  of  the  evening,  she,  not  wanting  him  to  know 
that  she  had  been  awake,  called  to  him,  "  Sinku  muy, 
why  don't  you  sleep  ?  "  And  he  replied :  "  For  gladness, 
Mamushka"  Then  he  climbed  up  to  the  bake  oven  to 
kiss  her,  but  she  pushed  him  back,  horror  stricken,  cry 
ing:  "  Oh,  but  Sinku  muy,  where  have  you  been?  " 


CHAPTER  TWELVE:  SUSANKA 


,  Susanka,  you  must  smile,  you  must  look 
happy,"  Frau  Sandor  Redlich  reiterated  day 
after  day  to  her  wet  nurse;  but  she  didn't  look  happy 
and  she  couldn't  smile,  and  the  Redlich  baby  grew  more 
puny  and  pallid,  for  it  could  not  receive  the  proper  nour 
ishment  from  Susanka's  joyless  breast. 

"  Sandor  dear/'  wailed  the  young  mother,  "  can't  you 
make  her  look  happy?  She  ought  to  be  compelled  to  be 
liappy  when  we  are  paying  her  such  good  wages  and  giv 
ing  her  just  the  same  food  that  we  eat;  yet  she  sighs  and 
grieves  for  her  own  baby  till  you  would  think  that  she  is 
a  married  mother/' 

"  Sandor  dear,"  however,  could  not  make  the  nurse 
happy,  though  he  promised  her  a  golden  ducat  for  every 
smile,  and  went  so  far  as  to  threaten  to  send  for  the  gen 
darmes  to  arrest  her,  if  she  did  not.  The  day  of  the 
feast  at  which  the  little  stranger  was  to  be  introduced 
to  Hraszova  society  was  drawing  very  near,  and  both 
parents  wished  him  to  look  well. 

Dr.  Lonyai,  who  presided  at  the  birth  of  the  baby, 
had  recommended  this  particular  Susanka  and  when  she 
would  not  properly  function,  he  had  an  interview  with 
her  which  evidently  did  not  improve  the  situation  ;  for 
she  came  out  of  his  office  weeping,  and  that  night  the 
baby  fretted  and  cried  more  than  ever. 

As  usual  when  there  was  something  really  the  matter, 
they  called  in  Dr.  Makutchky.  "Well,  Madam,"  he 
asked  Frau  Sandor  Redlich,  when  she  had  stated  the 
trouble  and  had  shown  him  the  ill  nourished  baby  and 
the  tearful  nurse;  "  how  happy  would  you  be  if  you  had 

124 


SUSANKA  125 

to  farm  out  your  baby  and  then  go  and  nurse  another 
woman's  baby,  just  because  you  were  poor? 

"  How  would  you  feel  if  you  knew  that  your  baby  was 
in  charge  of  some  old  Baba,  who  put  a  gag  into  its  mouth 
or  fed  it  on  poppy  seed  oil  to  keep  it  quiet? 

"  No,  no,  I  did  not  mean  to  insinuate  anything.  Of 
course  it  couldn't  have  happened  to  you,  and  it  does  hap 
pen  to  these  peasant  girls ;  but,  Madam,  Susanka  is  just  as 
much  woman  as  you  are,  though  her  maternity  is  a  little 
irregular;  but  though  that  cow  of  yours  hasn't  had  a 
legalized  wedding,  if  you  take  away  her  new  born  calf 
she  will  call  for  her  own,  even  if  another  calf  pulls  her 
udder. 

"  Your  Susanka  happens  to  be  a  particularly  decent 
girl,  and  perhaps  that  is  the  reason  her  grief  is  greater 
than  that  of  the  usual  peasant  girl.  Perhaps  you  don't 
know  that  her  baby  has  a  very  respectable  father.  Yes, 
of  course  she  ought  to  have  known  better,  but  if  these 
girls  did  know  better,  where  would  your  kind  get  wet 
nurses?  It  would  be  a  calamity  of  course,  if  our 
ef  Panyi  Velconwshny  "  should  have  to  nurse  their  own 
babies,  and  spoil  their  lovely  forms.  Medicine  won't 
help,"  he  answered,  for  the  third  and  fourth  time,  in  his 
curt,  dry  way.  "  Make  that  man  promise  Susanka  that 
he  will  marry  her,  or  get  another  wet  nurse." 

Frau  Redlich  was  quite  willing  to  go  and  talk  to  the 
man  if  she  knew  him,  or  get  another  wet  nurse;  but  the 
supply  of  wet  nurses  was  running  short.  The  men  were 
coming  back  from  America  and  marrying  the  girls,  and 
there  were  no  more  scandalous  interludes  which  produced 
wet  nurses.  Dr.  Lonyai  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
in  finding  this  one  for  them. 

Dr.  Makutchky  had  no  professional  jealousy,  neither 
was  he  vindictive ;  but  he  was  very  human,  and  so,  being 
momentarily  off  his  guard,  he  said  in  his  iciest  manner: 


126      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"Madam,  I  have  never  produced  a  wet  nurse;  perhaps 
Dr.  Lonyai  can,  if  he  goes  to  some  more  trouble,"  and 
with  that  he  reached  for  his  hat  and  left  the  house. 

When  Sandor  Redlich  came  home,  his  wife  told  him 
tearfully  that  Dr.  Makutchky  was  horrible  as  usual,  and 
that  one  ought  never  to  consult  him,  and  that  he  was  no 
gentleman  for  he  insinuated  that  she  might  have  been  a 
wet  nurse. 

Sandor  Redlich  hardly  listened,  for  he  had  other  trou 
bles  besides  quieting  his  almost  hysterical  wife.  Things 
were  not  going  well  at  the  brewery.  There  was  constant 
friction  between  Herr  Ritter  and  the  Slovak  workmen, 
and  the  head  brewer,  a  Bohemian,  threatened  to  leave. 
Money  was  being  spent  freely  but  thus  far  no  products 
had  been  shipped,  and  no  money  was  coming  in;  then 
his  father  was  constantly  complaining  and  worrying, 
his  younger  brother  Henry  was  gambling  at  the  Casino 
and  drawing  heavily  on  the  resources  of  the  firm,  and 
now  this  trouble  about  Susanka  and  the  baby!  He 
scarcely  trusted  himself  to  glance  at  the  little,  suffering 
thing.  It  looked  for  all  the  world  like  a  grasshopper; 
nothing  but  skin  and  bones. 

In  spite  of  Susanka's  visible  wretchedness,  the  feast 
in  the  baby's  honor  was  now  to  take  place,  after 
having  been  often  postponed,  and  the  house  had  been 
turned  upside  down  in  preparation.  Turkeys,  so  rare 
in  that  country  that  they  are  called  "  Indians,"  were 
slaughtered,  geese  which  had  been  fattened  till  they 
could  not  breathe  were  put  out  of  their  misery,  cakes 
and  tortes  were  baked  and  the  choicest  pears  and 
grapes  were  brought  from  Budapest.  Numerous  bottles 
of  champagne  were  carefully  nursed  by  Henry  Redlich, 
who  knew  just  how  they  should  be  handled.  The  firm 
of  Redlich  would  spare  nothing  at  such  a  time  as  this, 
and  the  number  of  invitations  which  had  been  sent  out 


SUSANKA  127 

was  as  liberal  as  the  provision  made  for  the  entertain 
ment  of  expected  guests  was  generous. 

However,  just  whom  to  invite  was  not  as  easily 
decided  as  planning  the  menu.  The  relationship  was 
carefully  scanned  and  the  orthodox  and  poorer  relatives, 
and  the  two  were  almost  synonymous,  were  eliminated. 
There  was  no  use  sending  an  invitation  to  the  Rabbi; 
he  would  regard  it  as  an  insult,  when  the  child  had  not 
been  circumcised.  They  had  greatest  difficulty  with  the 
list  of  Redlich  relatives.  Moritz  Redlich  was  a  great 
stickler  for  family.  According  to  him,  cousins  far  re 
moved  were  still  in  the  family,  and  the  poorer  they  were 
the  more  were  they  in  need  of  attention  and  of  a  good 
meal  once  in  a  while ;  and  naturally  the  more  pious  and  the 
poorer  they  were,  the  less  presentable,  on  an  occasion  of 
this  kind,  when  many  of  their  guests  were  to  be  Gentiles, 
the  elite  of  Hraszova.  At  least  the  elite  men  were  to  be 
there;  the  women  who  always  make  finer  social  distinc 
tions,  had  no  dealings  with  the  Redlichs,  though  they  had 
money  and  served  the  greatest  delicacies  at  their  table. 

Of  course  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company  were  to  sit 
at  the  center  of  the  table,  one  has  to  humor  old  men;  then 
Madam  Redlich,  and  her  daughter  Sophie,  with  Dr. 
Lonyai  next  to  her.  The  world  might  as  well  know  now 
as  any  other  time  that  the  two  are  destined  for  each 
other;  although  when  one  talked  to  Sophie  about  him, 
the  tears  came  into  her  eyes  and  she  would  shake  as  if 
she  had  chills. 

"  That  is  to  be  expected,"  said  Frau  Sandor.  "  I  felt 
the  same  way  when  they  mentioned  my  perfect  dear,  as  a 
possible  husband." 

The  great  day  had  come,  the  preliminaries  had  been 
arranged  successfully,  and  Herr  and  Frau  Redlich 
awaited  their  guests.  Susanka  was  sitting  in  the  nursery 
in  festal  attire,  with  her  multitude  of  starched  skirts  and 


128      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

a  brand  new  apron,  all  embroidery  and  lace,  a  gift  from 
the  Madam,  to  evoke  a  smile,  which  it  didn't.  She  wore 
a  rich  prutzlik,  not  too  tightly  laced  of  course,  and  around 
her  neck  a  silver  chain  and  locket,  a  gift  from  Frau  Red- 
lich's  parents,  also  designed  to  make  her  happy,  in  which 
it  too  failed. 

In  her  arms,  wrapped  tightly  in  a  damask  covered 
pillow  tied  about  with  the  most  gorgeous  ribbon,  was 
the  little  baby,  looking  for  all  the  world  with  its  screwed 
up,  wrinkled  face,  like  Moritz  Redlich,  its  unhappy 
grandfather. 

"  Oh !  Susanka,"  urged  the  anxious  parents,  "  do  smile. 
You  must  smile  when  you  come  in  to  present  the  baby! 
You  know  each  guest  will  give  you  a  present." 

How  many  prospective  gold  pieces  were  held  out  to 
her,  just  to  smile.  Every  one  urged  her  to  smile.  The 
caterer  and  the  dishwasher,  the  midwife,  who  could 
understand  other  things  besides  the  birth  of  babies. 
"What  luck!"  she  told  Susanka,  "to  have  had  a  baby 
just  in  time  to  be  a  wet  nurse  in  the  Redlich  family." 
The  nurse  evidently  did  not  appreciate  her  privilege;  she 
had  a  faraway  look  in  her  eyes  and  scarcely  seemed  to 
know  that  she  had  a  baby  in  her  arms. 

In  the  parlor  there  was  a  hubbub  of  effusive  greetings 
and  laughter.  The  Magyar  gentlemen  clicked  their  heels 
and  kissed  the  hand  of  the  young  mother,  who  looked 
so  delicately  interesting.  Many  of  the  guests  presented 
flowers  with  their  congratulations.  Father  Anton  Kal- 
man,  wearing  his  best  satin  sutan,  was  received  like  an 
old  friend  of  the  family.  "  What  a  comfort  you  are 
to  father  and  how  good  of  you  to  come,"  said  Sandor 
Redlich. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  had  not  made  any  change  in  his 
attire.  He  and  Yanek  came  together.  There  had  been 
some  question  whether  to  invite  Yanek  or  not,  but  finally 


SUSANKA  129 

it  was  decided  that  it  would  look  very  well  in  the  news 
paper  account  of  the  affair  to  say,  that  the  Reverend 
Yanek  Hruby,  recently  from  America,  was  one  of  the 
guests.  Of  course  they  had  to  be  careful  not  to  seat  him 
anywhere  near  the  Baron  or  the  Judge,  but  when  there 
were  so  many  that  could  be  managed.  It  was  a  bitter 
pill  for  Andrew  Feher,  who  acted  as  butler  on  this  occa 
sion,  to  open  the  door  for  a  Slovak,  the  son  of  his  enemy 
to  boot. 

Herr  Ritter  came,  wearing  the  uniform  of  his  corps, 
with  the  many  colored  ribbons  across  his  breast,  and  it 
was  noticeable  that  Pan  Kukulish,  the  postmaster,  did 
not  appear,  and  that  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  was 
not  invited.  After  the  scandal  he  had  been  dropped  from 
membership  in  the  Casino,  and  so  of  course,  was  no  more 
among  the  elite. 

Kuby  Fish,  one  of  the  few  Jews  who  could  be  reck 
oned  among  the  elect,  came,  immersed  in  an  atmosphere 
of  various  perfumes,  and  some  one  suggested  that  he 
needed  something  strong  to  take  the  odor  of  oxen  out  of 
him.  "  You  can't  imagine,  Madam,  how  hard  it  was  for 
me  to  come,  with  so  much  to  do  and  the  sugar  season 
at  its  height;  but  who  could  withstand  such  an  invita 
tion?"  he  said,  his  eyes  on  the  heavy  laden  tables;  fof 
they  were  passing  into  the  dining  room. 

As  for  the  ladies  of  Hraszova,  they  had  put  on  their 
best  to  go  to  the  Redlich's  on  this  occasion,  and  the 
best  was  very  good.  A  little  too  shimmering  and  glitter 
ing,  perhaps,  a  little  too  much  or  too  little,  considering 
the  hour  of  the  day  and  the  tendency  of  the  ladies  to 
corpulency,  a  little  too  much  Orient;  but  that  of  course 
was  natural,  even  to  ladies  who  couldn't  trace  their  an 
cestry  so  directly  from  King  Solomon. 

The  Gypsies'  playing  added  to  the  tumult  as  course 
followed  course.  The  roasted  fowl  succeeded  the  frag- 


130      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

rant  soup,  and  Kuby  Fish,  balancing  a  piece  of  white 
meat  of  the  turkey  on  his  fork,  looked  at  it  with  the  air 
of  a  connoisseur,  for  once  before  at  a  wedding  he  had 
eaten  "  Indian/'  although  it  was  not  as  good  as  this. 

Dr.  Lonyai  was  very  attentive  to  Sophie,  but  she  was 
talking  to  Yanek  who  sat  opposite  her,  and  recalling  to 
his  mind  the  pen  he  had  given  her  when  she  was  mourn 
ing  for  her  mother.  She  upbraided  him  for  not  coming 
to  see  them.  If  he  would  come  she  would  play  and  sing 
for  him  the  latest  American  songs  which  the  Fraulein 
had  taught  her. 

Unfortunately  the  Fraulein  was  placed  next  to  Yanek, 
the  hostess  thinking  that  two  Americans  would  be  happy 
in  each  other's  society,  but  they  had  lived  in  different 
worlds.  In  the  New  World,  hers  was  bounded  by  the 
cabarets,  the  big  department  stores,  the  board  walk  in 
Atlantic  City,  and  the  movies ;  while  his ! — How  far  away 
that  world  seemed  to  him  just  now,  that  sheltered 
America  of  his,  that  straight  and  narrow  America,  on 
the  border  between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  the 
America  of  his  college,  where  cards  were  played  on  the 
sly,  where  calling  on  the  co-eds  on  Sunday  was  a  severe 
breach  of  traditions;  and  smoking  cigarettes  was  among 
the  "  Thou  Shalt  Nots  "  of  the  Decalogue. 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  the  Fraulein  thought  her 
pleasure  loving,  reckless,  ostentatious,  frankly  wicked 
America,  was  the  whole  of  it,  with  a  few  fanatics  whom 
she  called  "  Muckers/'  to  mar  the  pleasure ;  and  he 
thought  it  was  all  like  his  America,  oscillating  between 
The  Presbyterian  Review  and  the  Saturday  Evening 
Post,  and  when  it  was  very  wicked,  straying  as  far  as 
the  Sunday  Newspaper.  The  two  had  as  much  in  com 
mon  as  Lillian  Russell  and  the  President  of  the  Moody 
Institute  in  Chicago  would  have,  if  fate  or  bad  manage 
ment  should  bring  them  together  on  a  social  occasion. 


SUSANKA  131 

Fraulein  called  Yanek  "  Meester "  Hruby,  and  she 
rolled  her  r's  in  the  back  of  her  throat  as  if  she  were 
using  a  gargle.  She  had  a  way  of  shaking  her  finger  at 
him  when  she  narrated  some  of  the  "  American  schkan- 
dals,"  of  which  he  assured  her  he  knew  nothing. 

"  Oh,  you  naughty  Meester  Hruby,  you  have  it  thick 
behind  the  ears !  "  And  when  she  found  that  he  really 
knew  nothing  and  cared  nothing  for  her  unsavory  Ameri 
can  experiences,  she  began  running  down  Hraszova,  and 
pitied  herself  for  having  to  live  in  such  "a  bum  place." 

Henry  Redlich  having  left  the  table,  reappeared  with 
the  bottles  of  champagne,  and  the  ladies  held  their  hands 
to  their  ears  for  a  few  anxious  minutes  before  he  suc 
ceeded  in  uncorking  the  first  bottle.  A  certain  number 
of  guests,  among  them  the  Judge  and  Herr  Ritter,  were 
seen  to  brace  themselves  for  the  ordeal  of  answering  to  a 
toast,  and  the  Gypsies  scraped  their  fiddles  violently, 
reaching  a  climax  called  a  "  Tusch"  which  was  a  more 
or  less  musical  way  of  calling  the  guests  to  order.  It 
took  more  than  a  f(  Tusch "  to  quiet  the  diners  and 
winers.  Through  the  subsiding  clamor  there  were  still 
heard  feminine  voices  approvingly  reproving  some  indeli 
cate  verbal  delicacy,  the  guffas  of  those  who  did  not  know 
the  subtle  but  swift  influence  of  sparkling  wine,  and  the 
murmured  regrets  of  others,  that  the  rich  tortes  were  not 
to  be  passed  at  least  once  more. 

Sandor  Redlich  had  risen,  and  the  noisiest  among 
the  guests  were  crying  "  Silentium! "  and  were  knock 
ing  on  the  table  with  their  forks.  Kuby  Fish  rescued  a 
huge  pear,  which  was  being  taken  from  the  table  without 
hearing  the  toasts,  and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  the  Frau 
lein  who  had  noticed  it,  for  she  noticed  everything,  said 
to  "Meester"  Hruby,  "What  a  schkandal ! " 

At  last  all  was  silent  except  for  Moritz  Redlich's  cough 
and  the  audible  breathing  of  the  Judge,  who  had  eaten 


132      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

beyond  discretion.  Then  the  host  spoke  words  of  wel 
come  in  behalf  of  himself  and  his  wife  and  his  family  to 
be,  and  the  honor,  the  lasting  honor,  of  having  these  illus 
trious  guests  at  his  table.  He  hoped  that  the  meager  fare 
they  had  provided  (and  he  mentally  scanned  the 
enormous  bills  to  be  paid),  would  express  to  them  in 
some  measure  the  happiness  which  was  theirs  on  this 
day,  when  their  son, — and  then  Kuby  Fish  interrupted 
with  "  And  may  there  be  at  least  six  of  them!  "  but  was 
called  down  by  another  chorus  of  "  Silentium! "  "  And 
now,"  continued  Sandor,  "  our  son,  the  pride  of  our 
lives,  will  be  introduced  to  you." 

Susanka  entered,  carrying  the  damask  bolster  with  the 
tiny,  wrinkled,  unhappy  looking  face  of  the  baby  pro 
truding  at  the  top.  Behind  her  marched  the  midwife 
urging  her  on,  for  her  feet  were  very  reluctant.  The 
guests  rose  and  drank  to  baby  Istvan's  health  amid  loud 
Elyens.  Susanka,  who  should  have  gone  smilingly 
through  the  ceremony  of  presenting  the  baby  to  each 
guest,  was  being  pushed  along  by  the  midwife,  and  there 
was  much  shaking  of  heads  as  they  looked  at  the  baby 
and  then  at  her.  The  midwife  had  to  collect  the  presents, 
for  Susanka' s  hands  were  clenched  as  tightly  as  her  pale 
lips  were  closed. 

When  she  came  to  the  baby's  grandfather,  he  began  to 
lament  about  the  Yiddish  child  which  was  not  to  be  Y id- 
dished;  but  his  wife  pulled  him  by  the  coat  and  told  him 
not  to  forget  where  he  was.  Then  he  bit  his  lips,  and 
to  the  amazement  of  every  one  he  said :  "  Yes,  baby,  in 
America  it  is  fine,"  and  he  buttoned  and  unbuttoned  his 
coat,  and  the  young  people  began  to  titter  and  the  older 
ones  whispered  to  one  another,  "  too  bad  the  old  man  is 
losing  his  mind." 

When  Susanka  came  to  Dr.  Lonyai,  he  pretended  not 
to  see  her.  He  was  talking  to  Sophie,  his  arm  on  the 


SUSANKA  133 

table  and  his  face  turned  full  upon  her,  and  she  was 
trembling  all  over  as  usual,  when  he  was  near  her.  She 
could  not  bear  the  look  in  his  eyes,  and  she  told  her 
father  that  the  way  he  looked  at  her  made  her  feel  as  if 
she  were  standing  naked  before  him. 

Susanka  had  not  moved,  for  the  midwife  had  not 
pushed  her,  and  she  stood  perfectly  motionless  before  Dr. 
Lonyai.  Then  Sophie,  who  was  trying  to  avoid  looking 
at  him,  noticed  that  the  nurse  was  swaying,  and  that  she 
had  stretched  out  her  hand  toward  Dr.  Lonyai.  The 
next  moment  he  felt  the  touch  of  her  hand  heavy  upon 
his  shoulder,  and  as  he  pushed  her  roughly  aside  without 
looking  at  her,  Susanka  collapsed  and  fell  at  his  feet. 

Of  course  there  was  a  commotion.  Some  one  called 
for  camphor,  and  another  for  cold  water,  and  still  an 
other  was  beating  the  nurse  on  the  back  as  if  that  would 
bring  her  to  consciousness. 

The  Gypsies  had  the  good  sense  to  begin  playing, 
Susanka  staggered  to  her  feet  and  was  led  from  the 
room  by  the  midwife,  who  had  rescued  the  baby. 

The  Fraulein  whispered  to  Yanek  "What  a  Schkan- 
dal"  and  looked  knowingly  at  Dr.  Lonyai,  who  tried 
to  appear  unconcerned.  Sandor  Redlich  again  arose  amid 
cries  of  " Silentium"  and  apologized  for  the  incident. 
The  times  were  growing  worse  he  said,  peasants  did  not 
know  their  places,  and  wet  nurses  were  not  the  happy, 
smiling  creatures  they  used  to  be.  He  would  now  call 
on  Herr  Ritter  to  respond  to  the  toast  "  The  Ladies." 

The  usual  "  Tusch "  was  scraped  by  the  violins,  and 
amid  Elyens  and  repeated  Elyens,  Herr  Ritter  arose. 
Moritz  Redlich's  cough  was  nearly  choking  him,  and  he 
left  the  room  without  apologizing. 

The  Herr  Ritter  charmed  the  ladies  by  his  speech 
which  was  seasoned  by  wit,  and  embroidered  with  quo 
tations  from  the  German  poets,  and  while  his  eyes  wan- 


134      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

dered  from  one  lady  to  the  other,  they  always  evaded 
those  of  Madam  Redlich.  When  he  finished  there  was 
the  usual  applause,  in  which,  however,  a  number  of  the 
gentlemen  failed  to  join.  The  host  then  introduced 
the  honorable  Judge  who  would  propose  the  toast  to  the 
nation,  Magyar  Orssag. 

"  The  yellow  leather  bag,"  as  Fraulein  called  him 
whispering  to  Yanek,  arose,  and  launched  into  a  tedious 
recital  of  Hungarian  history  from  the  time  of  Stephan 
the  First,  to  that  day.  In  his  peroration  he  saw  Magyar 
Orszag  safely  established  between  the  Carpathians  and 
the  Iron  Gate.  As  he  pictured  the  country  with  all  its 
enemies  subdued  and  no  language  but  Hungarian  spoken, 
he  called  upon  all  loyal  Magyars  to  rise  and  drink  the 
health  of  Hungary.  The  Magyars  rose  with  alacrity, 
clicked  their  heels  and  lifted  their  glasses.  Kuby  Fish 
was  not  quite  so  quick;  he  did  not  dare  rise  because  his 
bulging  pockets  betrayed  his  frequent  pilfering.  Pan 
Yan  Szenitzky  did  not  move  from  his  seat,  and  Yanek 
followed  his  example. 

The  Judge  grew  so  angry,  that  he  quite  forgot  him 
self  and  cried  "  treason  "  !  The  Slovaks  declared  them 
selves  insulted  and  demanded  an  immediate  apology. 
The  ladies  were  frightened  and  appealed  to  Kuby  Fish 
to  tell  a  funny  story  to  divert  the  attention  of  the  men; 
but  the  frequent  toasts  had  put  him  past  the  ability  to 
tell  anything  coherent,  and  the  quarrel  began. 

Father  Anton  Kalman  had  eaten  and  drunken  gener 
ously,  and  was  tapping  his  snuff  tobacco  box  more  than 
once.  After  having  stowed  away  a  generous  pinch  of 
snuff  he  rose,  and  stretched  his  hands  over  the  excited 
guests  as  if  in  benediction;  then  sat  down  again. 

The  Pan  attempted  to  light  his  Dresdcnska  and  failing 
in  the  attempt,  rose,  and  made  the  longest  speech  he  had 
ever  made  in  public.  First  he  knocked  his  pipe  on  the 


SUSANKA  135 

table,  then  he  said :  "  Gentlemen,  this  is  not  Hungary, 
but  Slovakland,  and  if  the  Magyars  who  are  here  to 
oppress  the  Slovaks  do  not  like  it  in  Hraszova,  they  are 
welcome  to  leave." 

A  surging  mass  of  excited  men  swayed  toward  the 
Pan's  seat,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  he  suc 
ceeded  in  lighting  his  pipe.  Yanek  threw  himself  be 
tween  the  men  and  the  threatened  Pan.  There  was  loud 
knocking  on  the  table  and  calls  of  "  Silentium  ";  and  the 
host  begged  them  all  to  remember  that  this  was  not  a 
tavern,  and  to  respect  the  peace  and  the  good  name  of  his 
home.  The  ladies  were  almost  hysterical  and  clung  to 
the  men,  begging  them  to  be  quiet  and  go  home. 

The  Gypsies  began  to  play,  fearing  that  in  the  quarrel 
their  tips  would  be  forgotten,  and  with  the  strains  of 
the  Rakoczy  march,  they  lured  many  a  crown  out  of  the 
pockets  of  the  guests.  Under  the  spell  of  the  music, 
passions  momentarily  cooled,  adieus  were  said  and  apolo 
gies  offered  and  accepted. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  and  Yanek  left  together,  and  the 
Judge  fired  after  them  a  parting  shot.  "  We  will  get 
you  yet,  you  dumb  Slovaks."  "  Unless  we  get  you  first," 
Yanek  replied,  and  that  the  Judge  remembered,  though 
he  had  to  be  carried  to  his  carriage,  with  Magyar  Orszag 
and  the  rest  of  the  world  revolving  violently  around  him. 

Kuby  Fish  alone  remained  seated.  When  all  had 
gone,  he  picked  up  the  last  bunch  of  grapes  and  while 
he  was  eating  it,  said :  "  Magyar  Orszag  or  no  Magyar 
Orszag,  such  fine  grapes  must  not  be  wasted." 

The  Pan  had  taken  more  than  one  glass  of  champagne, 
and  it  was  rousing  his  Slovak  blood  to  an  unwonted  heat. 
Never  before  in  all  his  life,  had  he  talked  so  much  about 
showing  the  Magyars  who  were  the  masters  of  Slovak- 
land,  and  Yanek  thought :  "  This  is  the  psychological 
moment."  Quite  casually  he  said:  "There  is  only  one 


136      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

man  in  the  district  of  Hraszova  who  can  show  them  who 
are  the  masters." 

"Who  in  the  devil's  name  can  it  be?"  thought  the 
Pan.  Before  they  reached  the  big  gate,  he  knew  and 
was  quite  convinced  that  it  was  his  duty  to  run  for 
Parliament ;  but  it  wasn't  because  he  had  drunk  too  much 
champagne,  or  because  he  had  quarreled  with  the  Judge, 
or  because  Yanek  declared  him  to  be  the  greatest  and 
truest  Slovak  in  the  district.  No,  indeed.  The  Pan  was 
sober,  and  not  as  vain  as  Yanek  thought  him,  and  the 
psychological  moment  didn't  have  much  to  do  with  it. 

The  Pan  said  to  himself :  "  If  I  get  into  Parliament,  I 
will  smash  the  Sugar  Trust  and  I  will  prohibit  emigra 
tion  and  they  will  not  plant  sugar  beets."  There  was 
just  one  lingering  doubt  in  his  mind,  as  he  saw  himself 
transplanted  to  Budapest.  How  could  he  get  along  with 
out  his  cronies,  the  other  members  of  Sanctus  Spiritus 
and  Company  ? 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN:  WHEN  THE  CAT 
SNEEZED 

crV7"OU  will  see,  something  terrible  will  happen!" 
Yanek's  mother  said  to  him  that  evening  when 
he  had  reached  home  and  told  her  just  what  they  had 
to  eat  at  the  Redlich's,  who  was  there,  how  handsomely 
the  ladies  were  dressed,  and  had  answered  her  other 
numerous  questions;  for  his  account  was  too  brief,  as  it 
always  is  for  a  woman,  when  a  man  is  giving  an  account 
of  a  social  occasion.  He  had  not  told  her  about  the 
quarrel  with  the  Judge,  for  she  had  been  very  much 
worried  about  him  since  his  arrest;  and  about  Susanka, 
he  told  her  only  after  repeated  questions  as  to  how  the 
baby  and  the  nurse  looked,  and  whether  she  had  re 
ceived  many  presents  from  the  guests. 

"  Mamushka  you  are  a  pessimist,"  he  told  her  at  the 
dire  prophecy  she  made,  and  when  he  explained  to  her 
what  a  pessimist  is,  she  told  him  she  was  nothing  of  the 
kind;  but  that  the  cat  had  sneezed,  and  when  the  cat 
sneezes  something  terrible  is  going  to  happen.  "  The  big 
yellow  and  white  torn  cat,  the  Mlada  Panka  Christina's 
cat  sneezed  the  day  you  were  arrested.  Educated  people 
can  read  the  newspapers  after  the  things  happen,  but  a 
cat  knows  them  before  they  happen,  and  may  the  Pan 
Boch  preserve  us  when  the  cat  sneezes." 

Indeed  may  the  Pan  Boch  preserve  us;  for  Sultan 
barked  and  growled  and  tugged  at  his  chain,  the  horses 
were  restless  and  so  was  Yanek's  father,  who  did  "not 
know  what  had  got  into  the  beasts."  He  went  out  into 
the  stables  and  petted  his  favorites.  He  scolded  the  dog, 
and  when  he  returned  he  told  Yanek  that  while  he  had 

137 


138      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

no  confidence  in  sneezing  cats  and  talking  women,  it  was 
different  with  dogs  and  horses,  and  it  would  not  surprise 
him  if  indeed  something  were  going  to  happen.  Yanek 
shared  in  the  prevailing  depression.  He  felt  disappointed 
with  himself;  the  straight  and  narrow  path  upon  which 
he  had  entered,  showed  devious  windings,  and  had 
widened  until  it  had  become  trackless. 

Those  oldest  and  most  persistent  enemies  of  man 
kind,  pride  and  lust,  which  he  thought  he  had  overcome, 
were  merely  unawakened,  and  now  at  their  first  stirring, 
he  had  all  but  capitulated  to  them.  His  sensitive  con 
science  helped  him  to  repent  but  not  to  conquer.  Like 
Adam  "  he  knew  that  he  was  naked,"  but  was  not  sure 
that  he  would  not  eat  another  apple  should  Eve  offer  him 
one.  He  had  conscience  but  not  will;  the  burglar  alarm 
sounded,  but  only  after  the  doors  were  broken  open.  So 
absorbed  was  he  in  his  painful  reflections  that  his  mother 
had  to  remind  him  more  than  once  that  they  had  not 
had  their  prayers.  He  wished  she  had  forgotten,  for 
prayer,  whatever  else  it  may  or  may  not  do,  searches 
one's  heart,  that  is,  when  one  really  prays  and  does  not 
merely  chew  the  cud  of  one's  soul. 

Evidently  the  cat  was  not  worried  about  the  dread 
ful  things  her  sneezing  portended,  for  she  was  curled 
up  in  the  corner  purring  contentedly.  Sultan  had  ceased 
his  growling  and  there  was  silence  in  the  adjoining  stable; 
but  all  nature  grew  suddenly  restless.  There  was  a 
roar  of  sullen,  booming  thunder,  the  dimly  lighted  room 
became  brightened  by  sharp  flashings  of  lightning,  the 
wind  surged  through  the  yard,  lashing  the  eaves,  and  as 
the  timbers  in  the  roof  began  to  creak,  heavy  drops  of 
rain  pelted  the  thatch.  Then  in  a  sudden,  ominous 
silence  they  heard  the  cry  of  a  bird,  like  that  of  a  hawk 
rising  from  the  ground,  the  flaring  light  became  steady 
for  a  moment,  increased  in  brilliancy  and  a  mighty  crash 


WHEN  THE  CAT  SNEEZED  139 

followed,  shaking  the  house.  Stephan  Hruby  and  his 
wife  were  on  their  knees,  praying  that  the  Pan  Boch 
might  spare  their  miserable  lives.  The  rain  descended  in 
torrents  and  Elzabetha  insisted  that  Yanek  should  put 
the  Bible  into  the  window  as  a  safeguard  against  the 
storm,  and  though  he  opened  it  at  the  forty-sixth  Psalm, 
she  and  his  father  sought  added  refuge  and  strength 
under  the  big  feather  bed. 

The  gutter  in  front  of  the  house  had  overflowed,  and 
the  whole  yard  was  a  raging  stream.  The  roar  of  the 
swollen  river,  the  crashing  thunder,  the  beating  rain 
and  the  tearing  wind  made  it  impossible  to  leave  the 
isba,  although  Yanek  knew  that  something  indeed  terrible 
had  happened.  In  the  lull  of  the  storm  he  heard  pathetic 
cries,  and  in  spite  of  his  mother's  entreaties  he  rushed 
out  and  made  his  way  to  the  dimly  lighted  hospice,  from 
which  came  the  wailing  of  the  women  and  the  hollow 
laugh  of  Pepo. 

The  frightened  women  were  on  their  knees.  Pepo 
was  babbling  and  laughing.  When  Yanek  finally  suc 
ceeded  in  getting  the  women  to  talk,  they  told  him  that 
Pepo's  girl  had  flown  away;  that  the  devil  came  in, 
riding  on  the  forked  end  of  a  streak  of  lightning,  and 
that  he  took  Pepo's  child  and  flew  away  with  her.  They 
saw  her  spread  her  arms  out  and  she  was  lifted  up  and 
taken  through  the  roof.  They  swore  that  the  door  was 
not  opened. 

He  quieted  the  women  and  returning  to  the  isba  per 
suaded  his  father  to  go  out  with  him  to  look  for  the 
child.  Martzin  who  had  slept  through  the  storm  was 
wakened.  Reluctantly  he  lighted  a  lantern  and  they 
started  in  the  direction  of  the  storm,  toward  the  river, 
making  their  way  cautiously  from  one  acacia  tree  to  an 
other.  When  they  came  to  the  garden  gate  they  found  it 
blocked  by  debris,  and  in  clearing  it  away  to  get  through, 


140      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Martzin  suddenly  called  on  the  devil  to  take  him  if  he 
hadn't  struck  something  warm. 

They  extricated  Pepo's  child  and  carried  her  into  the 
isba.  The  entire  household  which  had  been  aroused 
by  the  storm,  crowded  into  the  small  room.  Marisha, 
who  had  never  taken  her  motherhood  seriously,  was 
suddenly  seized  by  maternal  anguish ;  everybody  wanted 
to  do  something  and  no  one  did  anything.  Christina 
as  usual  brought  order  into  the  chaos.  While  the  child 
was  being  undressed,  she  ordered  hot  water,  and  sent 
one  of  the  men  for  the  doctor;  but  before  he  came  the 
heart  beats  had  grown  fainter  and  the  poor  mortal,  con 
ceived  in  passion  and  confusion,  had  passed  into  im 
mortality  on  the  last  fluttering  wings  of  the  storm. 

Marisha  having  lamented  enough  to  satisfy  propriety, 
permitted  herself  to  be  led  out  of  the  room,  though  she 
showed  no  signs  of  faintness.  Stephan  and  Elzabetha 
crawled  on  top  of  the  bake  oven  to  try  to  sleep  and 
Yanek  and  Christina  remained  to  watch  by  the  dead, 
whose  face  for  the  first  time  seemed  illumined  by  a  dim 
spark  of  spirit.  One  must  be  silent  with  the  dead;  so 
they  watched  till  the  gray  of  the  morning,  and  while 
their  lips  scarcely  moved,  their  hearts  were  speaking 
loudly.  His  was  crying  out  to  her :  "  I  have  always 
worshiped  you.  You  have  seen  it  in  my  eyes,  for  I 
looked  up  to  you  as  to  a  goddess.  When  I  prayed,  I 
prayed  to  you,  and  when  my  soul  aspired  after  the  good, 
it  was  merely  reaching  out  after  you.  When  I  crossed 
the  sea  I  went  to  make  myself  worthy  of  you,  and  when 
I  confessed  the  Christ  and  promised  to  follow  Him, 
the  goal  was  you,  and  the  reward  sought  was  in  you. 
I  am  slipping  away  from  you !  Hold  me  to  yourself,  hold 
me  to  your  God ! "  In  the  great  agony  of  his  spirit,  he 
involuntarily  stretched  out  his  hands  across  the  dead  body 
of  the  child,  and  they  sought  hers. 


WHEN  THE  CAT  SNEEZED 

Her  hands  were  outstretched  to  his;  for  she  too  had 
been  speaking,  though  he  did  not  hear.  "You  were 
always  mine,  Muy  Yanetchek!"  She  repeated  it  over 
and  over  again  as  she  looked  at  him,  while  he  avoided 
her  searching,  pitying  gaze.  "  Mine,  as  the  broken  toys 
were  always  mine.  Mine,  as  the  lame  chickens  and  the 
motherless  lambs  were  always  mine.  Mine,  when  I  shared 
with  you  my  bread  and  butter,  pitying  you  because  you 
had  none.  I  held  you  in  my  heart  when  I  prayed,  '  Dear 
Jeshzitshck,  keep  him  for  me ; '  I  prayed  that  a  thousand 
times,  and  I  knew  my  prayer  was  answered  when  God 
sought  you  and  found  you  for  me. 

"  I  waited  for  your  coming  home  as  Babushka  has 
taught  me  to  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  Lord,  and  when 
I  looked  into  your  face  and  saw  your  clear  eyes,  I 
thought  I  could  see  into  your  pure  soul,  and  I  knew 
that  you  were  mine.  I  believed  you  to  be  strong  of 
purpose  and  with  a  God  directed  will.  You  are  still 
mine,  mine  more  than  ever,  because  I  know  you  are 
weak,  and  carried  along  by  the  current  of  passion  like 
that  which  moves  other  men.  But,  oh!  my  boy/'  and 
then  their  hands  met,  for  she  was  reaching  out  after 
him;  "  I  am  as  weak  as  you  are,  and  my  heart  too  cries 
out  after  the  flesh;  but  it  is  crying  out  after  him  whose 
brow  my  hands  have  laved,  whom  my  heart  has  pitied, 
who  is  weak  and  helpless  in  body,  but  whose  soul  is  un 
conquerable.  Forgive  me,  Muy  Yanetchek! " 

There  was  an  answer  in  her  eyes  to  his  prayer,  but 
none  to  his  passion.  She  looked  weary  and  worn  and 
old.  "Mater  Dolorosa"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  went 
out  to  fetch  the  brass  candlesticks  from  the  Pan's  house; 
for  the  little  body  was  to  lie  in  state,  and  nothing  was  to 
be  missing.  As  he  stepped  out  into  the  gray  of  the 
morning,  the  mist  was  hovering  over  the  rain  soaked 
earth,  the  swallows  under  the  eaves  were  chirping,  though 


142      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

their  nests  were  utterly  ruined;  the  pigeons  were  cooing, 
and  Martzin  was  cursing  as  he  curried  the  horses,  for 
he  had  not  had  enough  sleep. 

In  the  Pan's  house  they  were  all  awake  and  the  servants 
were  busy  in  the  kitchen.  Marisha  went  after  the  candle 
sticks,  but  she  did  not  bring  them.  "  The  Mlada  Panka 
Sonya  will  fetch  them  herself."  Then  she  began  to 
weep,  and  bemoaning  her  sad  lot,  went  back  to  her 
morning's  tasks. 

The  chill  of  the  dawn  crept  into  Yanek's  bones  as  he 
paced  up  and  down,  waiting  for  Sonya.  He  half  wished 
she  would  not  come,  for  the  very  mention  of  her  name 
roused  in  him  that  which  he  bitterly  resented,  but  which 
was  filling  him  with  an  intense  and  secret  joy.  He 
heard  her  light  step  and  conjured  up  the  image  of  Chris 
tina,  as  he  prayed  that  she  would  save  him.  It  was  all 
in  vain.  He  dared  not  look  up  though  he  knew  Sonya 
was  standing  before  him.  He  stretched  out  his  hands 
for  the  candlesticks,  but  when  he  felt  the  soft,  yielding 
touch  of  her  hands,  the  storm  of  the  night  seemed  to 
surge  through  him,  and  forgetting  everything,  he  drew 
her  close  and  closer  to  him  and  kissed  her. 

Sonya's  silence,  and  the  sound  of  iron  heels  scraping 
over  the  cobble  stone  pavement  brought  Yanek  rudely 
back  to  earth.  He  tore  the  candlesticks  out  of  her  hands 
and  fairly  ran  to  the  door.  There  stood  the  baker's 
boy :  "  May  the  Panka  Marie  and  Saint  Joseph  save  us ! 
What  a  dreadful  night  it  was!  Does  the  Pan  Velco- 
moshnl  know  that  the  Redlich  baby  was  found  dead  in 
its  crib,  and  the  nurse  is  gone  and  they  have  searched 
for  her  everywhere  and  she  cannot  be  found,  and  they 
say  that  the  Jews  have  killed  her  ?  What  terrible  things 
have  happened !  " 

When  Yanek  reached  the  isba,  he  was  so  shaken  that 
he  could  hardly  hold  the  candlesticks.  With  his  face 


WHEN  THE  CAT  SNEEZED  143 

averted  he  told  them  the  terrible  news  he  had  just  heard, 
and  his  mother  said :  "  I  told  you  when  the  cat  sneezes  it 
is  always  a  sign  that  something  terrible  will  happen." 

Ah  me,  Mother  Elzabetha !    She  did  not  know  what  a 
terrible  thing  had  happened  to  her  son. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN:  THE  CIRCUMCISION 

A'M  willing  to  be  forgiven,"  nature  seemed  to  say 
JL  the  morning  after  the  storm,  and  she  said  it  smil 
ingly  with  no  trace  of  regret.  "  The  sun  shall  shine  to 
day  and  the  air  will  be  soft,  and  stir  but  gently,  and  the 
mist  rising  from  the  valley  will  disappear  and  the  birds 
sing  as  usual,  and  it  shall  be  just  such  a  well  behaved 
day  as  you  might  expect  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  when 
just  such  days  might  be  expected." 

But  the  sunshine  and  the  birds  could  not  silence  the 
roar  of  the  river,  which  came  dashing  down  from  the 
mountains,  devouring  adobe  huts,  and  then  swirling  the 
timber  and  the  straw-thatched  roofs  in  its  eddies,  like  a 
lion  playing  with  the  bones  of  its  victims,  cracking  them 
at  its  leisure  to  aid  digestion.  Men  were  cursing  the 
river  and  each  other,  women  were  praying  and  weeping, 
and  a  mob  was  gathering  around  Sandor  Redlich's  house. 
Like  the  evil  spirits  driven  from  their  habitations,  seek 
ing  new  ones,  so  the  spent  storm  had  entered  into  the 
hearts  of  men. 

The  odors  of  cooking  and  frying,  mingled  with  the 
fumes  of  wine  and  stale  tobacco  smoke,  clung  to  the 
musty  air  of  the  stricken  home.  Rosa  was  lying  on  a 
couch  in  the  parlor,  beating  the  pillows  and  giving  vent  to 
her  grief  in  short,  dry  sobs  of  agony,  her  strength  hav 
ing  been  all  but  spent  in  her  greater  lamentations.  Her 
parents  sat  on  the  floor,  the  father  swaying  back  and 
forth  as  all  his  Fathers  before  him  had  swayed  when 
they  approached  the  great  mystery.  In  their  heart  break 
ing  grief  they  sought  Israel's  God  and  found  him;  for 
he  has  always  dwelt  in  the  cloud. 

144 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  145 

Madam  Redlich  was  sitting  in  the  bent  wood  rocking 
chair,  her  hair  still  in  puffs  and  curls,  and  the  rouge  not 
washed  from  her  face  except  as  tears  had  made  inroads 
upon  it.  Occasionally  she  looked  at  her  polished  finger 
nails,  and  between  flashes  of  the  great  sorrow  which  had 
descended  upon  them  all,  she  was  wishing  for  her  mani 
cure  set  and  looking  apprehensively  out  of  the  window, 
watching  the  gathering  crowd. 

In  the  adjoining  room  lay  the  poor,  strangled  baby, 
and  Moritz  Redlich  was  walking  up  and  down,  talking 
to  it;  for  there  was  much  to  say  just  at  this  time  whon 
the  storm  had  left  wreck  and  ruin  behind  it.  Every 
thing  was  bent  or  torn  by  it.  The  Burial  Society  had 
refused  to  grant  a  Jewish  burial  to  the  child,  or  even  a 
place  in  the  cemetery;  the  Christians  were  enraged  over 
the  disappearance  of  the  nurse,  Sandor  and  his  wife 
were  paralyzed  by  grief  and  fear.  As  for  his  own  wife, 
the  storm  had  but  stirred  the  dregs  of  her  shallow  soul, 
while  it  had  lifted  him  up,  and  to  him  they  all  came  and 
on  him  they  all  leaned,  as  always. 

"  Nu  nu  babykin,"  he  said,  as  he  stopped  in  front  of  the 
little  crib,  and  looked  into  the  drawn  face  of  the  child. 
'You  got  there  before  your  grandfather!  A  quick 
trip,  little  baby,  a  quick  trip!  What  have  you  missed? 
Nothing,  nothing!  Seventy-four  years  my  next  birth 
day,  and  I  shall  go  out  as  thin,  and  wrinkled,  and  starved 
as  you."  For  a  moment  everything  looked  red  before 
him  as  he  saw  the  marks  of  the  strangling  on  its  neck. 
He  shook  himself  violently,  as  if  to  get  rid  of  something 
that  had  gripped  him,  and  vainly  tried  to  turn  his  mind 
from  the  pursuing  thought  which  seemed  to  lead  him 
right  to  the  sign  dangling  from  the  walls  of  the  old  dis 
tillery  while  the  Herr  Ritter  pulled  the  rope. 

"  It  is  fine  in  America,  it  is  fine,  it  is  fine !  "  Dozens 
of  times  he  repeated  it,  yet  always  the  same  image  re- 


146      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

mained  in  his  mind,  always  something  in  him  urging 
him  to  end  it  all,  promising  a  great  silence,  if  only  the 
silence  of  the  grave. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Christina  and 
Yanek  entered.  They  had  made  their  way  through  the 
mob  and  had  partially  quieted  it  by  saying  that  they 
were  searching  for  the  nurse,  and  that  they  knew  she 
had  not  been  harmed  by  the  Jews.  The  sight  of  Yanek 
seemed  to  relieve  the  tension  of  the  old  man.  He  threw 
himself  at  him,  grasped  him  by  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  and 
cried:  "It  is  fine  in  America,  isn't  it,  isn't  it?"  Then 
fiercely,  "  tell  me  that  it  is  fine  in  America !  " 

Yanek  told  him  that  indeed  it  was  fine,  but  that  it 
was  still  better  with  God.  One  of  the  things  he  had 
always  dreaded  was  to  utter  phrases  which  had  no  mean 
ing  to  himself,  which  he  had  not  tested;  but  this  he 
knew,  that  there  is  peace  with  God,  though  he  had  not 
entered  into  it,  and  just  now  needed  that  assurance 
himself. 

From  Christina's  lips  the  words  of  comfort  came  more 
naturally.  She  dwelt  with  God,  and  when  she  spoke,  her 
words  came  with  the  authority  of  one  who  had  pene 
trated  into  the  Holy  Presence.  She  put  her  arms  around 
the  old  man  and  soothed  him  until  the  sobs  of  grief 
grew  less  and  he  raised  his  bowed  head,  again  to  face 
his  great  and  crushing  problems. 

The  next  thing  to  do  was  to  find  the  nurse  and  avert 
a  calamity  which  would  fall  upon  all  the  Jews  of 
Hraszova.  No  doubt  she  had  fled  to  her  baby,  but  the 
bridges  were  washed  away  and  the  mob  could  not  be 
checked  very  long.  Then  came  the  other  problem,  the 
burial  of  the  baby.  He  had  called  the  members  of  the 
Burial  Society  together,  but  they  were  deaf  to  his  en 
treaties.  Of  course  they  had  nothing  against  him,  but 
for  an  uncircumcised  child,  deliberately  left  without  cir- 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  147 

cumcision  by  its  parents,  there  was  no  grave,  though  he 
owned  the  lot  upon  which  it  was  to  be  buried. 

The  mob  outside  was  bad,  as  bad  and  unreasoning 
as  all  mobs  are,  for  it  was  animated  by  ages  of  hatred; 
but  that  his  own  people  should  be  so  unreasonable,  Moritz 
Redlich  could  not  understand.  He  appealed  to  the  Rabbi, 
who  consulted  the  law  and  sought  for  a  precedent  which 
he  did  not  find,  and  which  he  was  not  eager  to  find. 
The  distracted  grandfather  offered  money,  but  money 
was  of  no  avail;  he  pleaded  his  own  faithfulness,  and  his 
own  service  to  the  Jewish  community,  he  entreated,  he 
wept;  all  in  vain.  The  child's  parents  had  definitely 
withdrawn  themselves  from  their  people  and  they  must 
take  the  consequences.  The  poor  man  went  away  to 
make  one  last  appeal  to  the  Rabbi,  and  Christina  and 
Yanek  were  alone  with  the  body  of  the  child,  the  second 
time  face  to  face  with  death  in  less  than  a  day. 

The  problem  of  death  was  simple  enough,  Christina 
said;  but  how  complicated  life  was,  what  a  mess  human 
beings  made  of  their  existence,  what  needless  and  yet 
everlasting  strife.  To  her  it  was  all  clear  enough,  it 
was  God's  way  of  leading  mankind  upward  through  the 
turmoil  and  confusion  into  the  everlasting  peace. 

"  It  is  easy  enough  for  Christina,"  Yanek  thought  as 
he  watched  her  sweet  face  which  spread  such  contagious 
calm.  "  The  strife  is  all  without  her  and  not  within. 
Would  she  be  as  sure  that  it  is  God's  way  if  this  were 
her  personal  sorrow?  To  carry  the  burdens  of  others 
is  after  all,  easy." 

"  Christina,"  he  said,  after  a  long  silence,  and  he  was 
astonished  at  himself  after  he  asked  the  question,  "  would 
you  say  all  that  if  this  were  your  own  baby?  Would 
you  say  it  is  God's  will  ?  "  She  looked  at  him  for  a 
moment,  and  a  flitting  shadow  passed  over  her  face  as 
if  she  were  visualizing  such  a  scene  as  part  of  her  life. 


148      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"  I  have  asked  myself  that  question  many  a  time," 
she  replied,  "and  I  have  not  been  bold  enough  to  say 
yes,  but  I  have  hoped  and  prayed  that  if  it  should  come 
to  me  I  would  face  it  just  this  way. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean.  This  is  after  all  the  burden 
of  another  woman,  of  another  home,  even  of  another 
world;  every  grief  is  one's  own,  and  no  matter  how  hard 
we  try  to  enter,  we  are  left  on  the  outside  of  the  door. 
We  leave  our  cards  of  condolence  or  we  say  the  cus 
tomary  platitudes  which  every  one  says  at  such  a  time; 
but  fortunately  for  the  sufferer  she  is  left  alone  with  the 
heavenly  visitor.  But,  Yanek,  if  our  faith  means  any 
thing  at  all  it  means  something  for  us  at  a  time  like  this. 
I  think  I  would  suffer  the  way  Rosa  suffers.  I  hope  I 
would,  but  I  should  have  a  Comforter  Whom  she  has 
not. 

"  It  is  easier  to  bear  the  burdens  of  others,  and  yet 
in  a  way  it  is  harder,  that  is,  if  you  really  carry  one  end 
of  the  load.  You  see  one  has  to  walk  over  such  strange 
paths.  Here  we  are  in  Sandor  Redlich's  home,  where  we 
came  just  to  say  that  we  are  sorry  for  him,  and  now," 
she  said  with  a  smile,  "  we  have  the  Rabbi  and  the  Burial 
Society  on  our  hands,  and  the  poor  little  baby" — and 
her  voice  grew  deep  and  quivered  like  the  tones  of  a 
'cello,  as  she  looked  into  the  crib. 

Naturally,  he  was  more  worn  than  she;  for  men  are 
the  weaker  sex  face  to  face  with  great  calamities.  He 
threw  himself  down  before  her,  and  buried  his  head 
in  her  hands  and  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 
He  longed  to  tell  her  all  about  it;  the  confusion  in  his 
own  heart,  the  temptations  which  assailed  him,  the  doubts 
as  to  his  own  integrity,  his  jealousy  of  the  schoolmaster 
and  his  forfeited  right  to  harbor  such  thoughts;  but  it 
all  turned  into  a  prayer  which,  though  it  was  addressed 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  149 

to  God,  was  meant  for  her;  so  while  he  cried:  "Oh 
God  help  me ! "  he  was  thinking  only  of  her. 

"  Yes,  God  help  us !  "  she  echoed,  and  thought  of  the 
heartbroken  mother  in  the  next  room,  of  the  old  man 
battling  for  the  right  to  bury  his  grandchild,  of  the  poor 
girl  who  had  taken  the  life  of  this  baby  to  be  free  to  go 
to  her  own;  and  she  thought  of  this  boy  for  whom  her 
prayers  had  so  often  been  offered,  but  she  thought  most 
of  the  schoolmaster  whose  brave  struggle  for  life  grew 
daily  more  hopeless. 

In  the  living  room  they  heard  the  penetrating  voice  of 
Dr.  Makutchky,  ordering  Rosa  to  bed  and  forbidding  any 
one  to  enter  her  room.  Madam  Moritz  Redlich  he  sent 
home,  and  she  was  not  sorry  to  go.  They  heard  him 
walking  up  and  down  the  room,  which  had  grown  very 
still.  Suddenly  he  entered  the  room  where  they  were. 
Yanek  had  risen,  and  turning  away  his  flushed  face, 
hardly  replied  to  the  doctor's  greeting,  given  in  his  usual 
brusque  manner,  after  which  he  said :  "  Christina,  you 
will  have  to  go  home,"  and  without  waiting  for  her  to 
reply  he  took  her  coat  and  began  helping  her  on  with 
it.  "  I  don't  want  you  for  my  patient,  but  if  you  keep 
on  at  this  pace  I  shall  have  to  leave  the  schoolmaster  to 
the  tender  mercies  of  your  Marisha,  and  she  is  in  no  state 
of  mind  to  help  anybody. 

"You  stay,"  he  said  just  as  determinedly  to  Yanek 
who  was  making  ready  to  accompany  her.  "  You  on  the 
whole,  are  not  as  valuable  as  she  is.  Don't  be  offended," 
he  added,  seeing  Yanek's  confusion;  "this  whole  town 
isn't  of  as  much  value  as  she,  but  just  now  I  need  you." 

Christina  called  him  an  old  grizzly  bear  and  a  cannibal, 
and  a  flatterer  at  that;  but  she  went,  leaving  the  two 
men  alone. 

Doctor  Makutchky  sent  Yanek  out  into  the  kitchen  to 


150      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

get  a  towel  and  a  basin  of  hot  water,  and  when  he  re 
turned  he  noticed  that  the  doctor  had  unpacked  his 
surgical  instruments. 

Without  stopping  his  preparations  he  said:  "You  see 
we  doctors  have  to  do  something  more  than  try  to  keep 
people  from  dying.  I  have  just  now  solved  a  problem 
which  has  puzzled  the  Rabbis  of  many  generations.  I 
passed  the  Rabbi's  house  and  heard  what  I  thought  was 
a  riot,  and  poor  old  Moritz  weeping  like  a  child.  I  went 
in  to  see  what  they  were  doing  to  the  old  man.  I  thought 
they  would  stop  when  I  came  in,  but  they  were  all  so  red 
in  the  face  and  their  eyes  so  swollen  by  rage  that  they 
did  not  see  me.  They  were  like  a  lot  of  crows  pecking 
at  the  old  man's  bleeding  heart.  It  was  the  Burial 
Society  torturing  the  dear  old  soul. 

"  'Let  him  take  the  body  to  his  old  friend  the  priest/ 
one  of  them  suggested. 

"  '  To  the  Reverend  Herr  Sanctus/  another  one  chimed 
in.  I  felt  like  throwing  my  cane  at  them. 

"  '  No  uncircumcised  child  can  be  buried  in  our  ceme 
tery,'  the  Rabbi  finally  declared,  and  h£  evidently  had 
said  it  more  than  once.  The  old  crows  were  laughing 
in  their  sleeves,  though  they  were  too  cowardly  to  laugh 
outright.  Then  I  spoke  up.  '  Rabbi/  I  said,  '  I  know  a 
little  something  about  the  Old  Testament  and  a  little 
less  about  the  Mishna  and  the  other  things  you  are  talk 
ing  about,  but  I  think  I  know  a  whole  lot  about  God 
Almighty.  I  don't  believe  that  He  would  deal  with  the 
vilest  man,  as  you  have  dealt  with  this  saint.' 

"  '  What  has  this  to  do  with  God  Almighty,  hallowed 
be  His  name/  one  of  the  crows  croaked  at  me.  'This 
is  something  between  the  Burial  Society  and  the  parents 
of  this  child,  which  was  deliberately  separated  from  his 
people.  What  business  is  it  of  yours  anyway  to  come  in 
here?' 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  151 

"'Hm!'  I  told  him  that  I  was  not  talking  to  the 
Burial  Society,  but  to  the  Rabbi  who  was  supposed  to 
interpret  the  Spirit  of  God.  f  Rabbi/  I  said,  *  may  any 
body,  a  Jew  or  a  Gentile,  circumcise  a  Jewish  child  ? ' 

"  The  Rabbi  put  on  his  glasses.  You  know  he  needs 
his  glasses  to  think. 

"  '  Yes,  in  an  emergency,  anybody  may  do  it,'  he  re 
plied. 

"  '  What  happens  if  the  child  dies  just  before  the 
circumcision?'  There  I  had  the  old  man  cornered,  and 
he  did  need  his  glasses.  He  took  down  one  volume  after 
the  other,  he  went  backwards  and  forwards  and  shook 
his  head.  Then  he  said  that  a  certain  Rabbi,  I  have  for 
gotten  his  name,  and  anyway  it  doesn't  matter,  said  that 
it  might  be  done  after  the  death  of  the  child.  That  was 
all  I  wanted  to  know,  and  now  we  are  going  to  do  it. 

"  Yes,  that's  right,  turn  your  head  away.  You  good 
people,  who  want  to  save  the  world  just  by  talking  to  it, 
are  so  sensitive!  You  must  turn  your  heads  away  and 
shut  your  eyes."  Yanek's  hand  shook  as  he  held  the 
basin  for  the  doctor,  and  he  wished  he  had  shut  his 
eyes,  for  he  grew  faint  and  sick,  and  when  it  was  all 
over  he  collapsed  and  sank  to  the  floor. 

A  dash  of  cold  water  over  his  face,  and  then  he  felt 
the  doctor's  hand  reaching  for  his  heart,  and  he  was 
back  again  in  the  center  of  an  age-old  problem  which  he 
thought  he  could  solve  by  merely  saying:  "Thus  saith 
the  Lord." 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN:  SWEET  STRYCHNINE 

F  I  ^HE  church  bells  seemed  to  have  reawakened  the 
A  poppies  and  tulips,  whose  root,  stalk  and  leaf  had 
long  ago  withered,  but  whose  colors  ran  riot  on  the 
Sunday  garb  of  the  Slovak  peasants,  who  were  being 
called  to  worship.  Not  the  colors  of  the  flowers  only, 
but  also  their  graceful  forms  were  embroidered  on  skirts 
and  waistcoats,  on  the  caps  of  the  married  women  and 
on  the  sheepskin  coats  of  the  men;  while  even  their 
clumsy  boots  bore  traces  of  the  favorite  flowers. 

The  schoolmaster  was  watching  the  streams  of  color 
from  the  front  room  of  Pan  Finor's  house,  to  which 
he  had  been  removed,  and  the  torture  of  living  was 
lightened  for  him  by  the  fact  that  he  could  look  out  upon 
the  market  place,  where  the  coming  and  going,  the  buy 
ing  and  selling,  the  drinking  and  fighting  of  Hraszova 
could  be  seen.  The  treacherous  disease  had  made  too 
great  progress  to  yield  to  the  brave  fight  made  against  it 
by  Dr.  Makutchky,  whose  gospel  of  fresh  air  and 
sunshine  he  more  than  half  doubted;  or  to  Christina's 
tender  care  and  the  faith  and  self-sacrifice  which  she 
brought  into  the  struggle.  She  had  just  left  him  and  he 
was  not  sorry  to  see  her  go,  for  she  came  accompanied 
by  Yanek  who  was  to  preach  that  morning,  and  when 
he  saw  them  together,  which  seemed  to  him  was  always 
the  case,  the  struggle  to  live  did  not  seem  worth  while, 
especially  to-day.  They  had  been  together  with  the 
dead  and  the  suffering,  and  he  envied  them  every  drear 
moment  of  the  time.  He  was  retelling  himself  the  stories 
they  had  told  him,  about  Pepo's  child  being  carried  away 
in  the  storm,  the  finding  of  the  body,  and  then  the  terrible 

152 


SWEET  STRYCHNINE  153 

story  of  the  strangled  baby  in  the  Redlich  home.  They 
were  together,  which  was  all  that  mattered  to  him;  and 
so  some  day  soon,  he  thought,  they  will  stand  by  this  bed 
and  look  down  upon  my  empty  body,  and  their  hands  will 
touch  as  they  minister  to  me  for  the  last  time.  "  Jealous ! 
Jealous!"  he  almost  shouted,  and  he  struck  his  aching 
breast  as  if  to  punish  himself  for  his  unworthy 
thoughts. 

Yes,  how  colorful  life  was  this  Sunday  morning;  and 
he  tried  to  give  his  thoughts  another  direction  as  he 
watched  the  procession  of  church  goers,  the  stream  divid 
ing  at  the  market  place  where  Protestants  and  Catholics 
sought  their  own  places  of  worship.  There  was  food 
for  reflection,  for  each  new  combination  of  color  spelled 
geography,  creed,  position  in  society,  married  or  single 
life.  To-day  the  stream  seemed  especially  dense;  only 
at  Easter  time,  and  then  only  on  the  first  day,  had  he 
ever  seen  so  many  people  going  to  church.  He  noticed 
an  unusually  large  number  of  peasants  from  the  mountain 
regions,  men  who  were  known  more  for  their  combat- 
iveness  than  for  their  piety,  and  he  surmised  that  the 
impending  trouble  had  reached  their  isolated  villages  and 
that  they  had  come  to  church  to  have  a  share  in  wreaking 
vengeance  and  hate,  rather  than  to  express  love  and  devo 
tion.  There  wasn't  half  enough  room  for  them  all  on 
the  cobblestone  sidewalk  and  they  overflowed  onto  the 
highway,  so  that  the  clouds  of  dust  their  clumsy  boots 
had  stirred,  softened  the  gay  colors  but  did  not  blot 
them  out. 

Plain,  simple  folk  they  were,  patient  and  indus 
trious,  not  asking  much  of  life,  or  putting  much  in, 
except,  and  how  much  that  was,  that  they  reproduced 
their  kind,  and  that  with  sublime  courage  they  greeted 
the  sunlight  with  labor,  and  were  still  working  when  it 
faded  from  the  valley. 


154      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

This  was  their  weekly  reward,  the  putting  on  of  their 
gay  clothes,  spun  and  woven  and  adorned  by  the  women 
for  this  solemn  hour  of  worship,  and  after  that  a  little 
more  and  better  food;  then  drink  and  music,  dancing, 
wooing,  and  mating.  That  was  the  round  of  the  Slovak 
peasant's  life,  and  how  gladly  the  schoolmaster  would 
have  exchanged  his  Latin  and  Greek  poets,  his  knowl 
edge  of  history,  his  skill  with  trees  and  flowers,  for  just 
one  strong,  clean  breath  of  air, — and  then  his  fevered 
cheeks  flushed  the  more, — for  one  swift  and  sweet  em 
brace  of  Christina. 

He  paid  dearly  for  his  exciting  thoughts,  for  he 
coughed  until  he  would  have  been  glad  to  cease  breathing 
altogether,  if  that  would  have  brought  release.  Some 
one  had  come  into  the  room  and  handed  him  a  glass  of 
water.  He  thought  it  was  his  nurse,  whose  habit  of  gos 
siping  in  Dr.  Finor's  kitchen  so  frequently  interfered 
with  her  duties.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  he  saw  Sonya 
bending  over  him.  "  More  sunshine,"  he  whispered. 

''  You  are  mistaken,"  she  said  in  assumed  severity,  "  I 
am  a  storm  cloud,"  and  she  brushed  aside  the  rebellious 
black  locks,  which  had  escaped  from  underneath  her 
broad  brimmed  hat.  "  First  of  all,  I  am  going  to  scold 
that  nurse  of  yours  for  leaving  you  alone,  and  then  I  am 
going  to  punish  you  for  your  indiscretions,  by  staying 
with  you  this  morning;  for  I  am  not  going  to  church; " 
and  she  proceeded  to  take  off  her  hat  and  coat. 

The  air  in  the  room  took  on  a  different  quality;  it 
seemed  more  alive,  and  the  depression  vanished  from 
the  schoolmaster's  mind.  Christina  brought  quiet  and 
peace,  and  he  was  resigned  to  everything  when  she  was 
with  him;  but  Sonya  brought  life,  the  Pagan  joy  of  life, 
and  he  began  to  be  rebellious  and  to  chafe  against  cruel 
circumstance.  His  hand  stole  from  under  the  coverlet 
and  he  touched  her  hair,  but  quickly  withdrew  it,  for  he 


SWEET  STRYCHNINE  155 

felt  the  quiver  of  an  electric  spark,  and  he  thought  he 
heard  a  crackling  sound. 

"  Thunder  and  lightning,"  laughed  Sonya,  "  I  told  you 
I  was  a  storm  cloud.  I  am  like  my  black  cat  when  you 
rub  his  fur  the  wrong  way." 

"  I  like  that  kind  of  storm/'  and  he  touched  her  hair 
again.  "It's  gone,"  he  said,  "the  storm  is  over!"  and 
his  weary  hand  dropped. 

"  Schoolmaster,  if  you  like  electricity,  I  will  swal 
low  an  electric  battery  the  next  time  I  come.  I  like  to  be 
petted ;  but  don't  rub  me  the  wrong  way,  for  I  am  angry 
clear  through,  furious  at  everybody  except  you." 

She  was  angry  with  everybody,  chiefly  with  Yanek,  for 
he  had  noticeably  avoided  her;  and  when  she  met  him 
that  Sunday  morning  (and  the  meeting  was  of  her  plan 
ning),  he  had  apologized  for  what  he  had  done  a  few 
mornings  ago.  He  was  tired  and  excited,  he  said,  and 
he  called  himself  a  cad  and  a  fool  and  a  brute,  and  vowed 
never  again  to  so  forget  himself.  He  begged  her  not  to 
go  to  church,  and  this  was  just  the  morning  she  was 
going,  for  he  was  to  preach.  She  could  not  under 
stand  why  he  did  not  want  her  there,  and  how  could  she 
understand?  But  when  he  looked  into  her  face  and  she 
met  his  confused  and  pleading  glance,  she  reluctantly 
promised.  Of  course  Christina  had  to  come  upon  them 
just  then;  they  were  going  to  church  together,  stopping 
on  the  way  to  see  the  schoolmaster. 

Sonya  was  angry  with  both  of  them.  She  wanted  to 
tell  Christina  that  she  was  a  meddling  hypocrite,  which 
she  knew  she  was  not,  and  she  fairly  ached  to  tell  Yanek 
that  she  agreed  with  him.  He  was  a  fool ;  for  why  didn't 
he  kiss  her  again,  when  she  loved  him  as  no  one  ever 
loved  him  before,  or  as  she  had  never  loved  any  one  be 
fore,  which  latter  might  have  been  nearer  the  truth. 
And  why  did  he  object  to  her  going  to  church  to  hear  him 


156      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

preach,  and  not  object  to  having  Christina  there?  Of 
course  Christina  was  a  saint,  but  saints  did  not  need 
being  preached  to,  while  she  was  a  sinner,  a  very  respect 
able  sort  of  sinner,  of  course,  who  needed  being  preached 
to — and  then  she  knew  how  perfectly  lovely  he  would 
look  in  a  Geneva  gown,  and  she  adored  Geneva  gowns, 
and  hoped  that  he  would  always  wear  one. 

She  also  might  have  told  him  what  of  course  she  would 
not,  that  he  was  not  only  a  fool,  but  a  very  adorable  liar ; 
for  she  knew,  and  she  knew  that  he  knew,  that  he  would 
embrace  her  and  kiss  her  again  and  again.  She  saw  it  in 
his  brown  eyes,  which  had  turned  almost  black  as  he 
pleaded  with  her,  and  she  felt  it  in  his  vibrant  voice. 
These  were  the  thoughts  which  chased  each  other  through 
her  busy  brain  as  she  swiftly  and  deftly  carried  out  the 
instructions  which  the  doctor  had  left.  Her  life  was 
not  pitched  to  the  Slovak  minor  key,  she  had  absorbed  the 
more  vital  and  joyous  Magyar  strain.  She  loved  to 
speak  their  sonorous,  stilted,  stately  language,  and  she 
danced  the  Czardas  with  absolute  abandonment  to  its 
weird  and  sensuous  rhythm.  Wherever  the  Slovak  danced 
the  Czardas  to  Gypsy  music,  there  the  Magyar  triumphed, 
more  than  by  passing  repressive  laws.  Among  Sony  a' s 
own  class  the  progress  of  Magyarization  was  stayed  in 
part  by  the  pietism  which  was  an  historic  and  tempera 
mental  inheritance,  but  she  was  immune  to  its  influence. 
Her  father  called  her  a  Gypsy.  She  had  the  ingratiating 
manner,  the  carelessness  of  the  things  of  yesterday  or 
to-morrow,  and  like  all  Gypsies  she  had  the  reputation  of 
being  a  thief,  and,  needing  nothing  but  love,  she  stole 
men's  hearts.  Unlike  the  Gypsy,  she  returned  them  to 
their  respective  owners  at  more  or  less  regular  periods. 
She  began  her  depredations  early,  and  she  stole  from  rich 
and  poor  alike.  The  heart  of  the  Baron  she  did  not  pur 
loin,  he  tried  to  force  it  upon  her,  and  being  a  Baron  and 


SWEET  STRYCHNINE  157 

the  son  of  his  father,  his  record  was  worse  than  hers  and 
the  effect  more  disastrous  to  some  of  his  victims.  They 
had  both  reached  the  point  of  satisfaction  at  the  same 
time,  and  he  loved  her  as  he  thought  he  had  never  loved 
a  woman  before;  while  she  felt  the  same  way  toward 
Yanek. 

"  Now  what  shall  I  do  for  you  ?  "  she  asked  after  she 
had  in  her  sketchy  way  done  everything  that  Christina 
did  so  carefully.  "  Shall  I  read  the  Bible  to  you?  "  He 
shook  his  head  negatively,  at  the  same  time  that  she  an 
swered  her  own  question  with  an  emphatic :  "  No,  that's 
Christina's  job  I  know;  and  then  I  don't  like  the  Bible 
anyway.  Every  decent  person  in  it,  except  the  queen  of 
Sheba,  is  a  Jew,  and  I  hate  the  Jews."  The  schoolmaster 
looked  reprovingly  at  her. 

"Yes,  of  course,  I  know  it  is  a  sin  to  talk  that  way; 
that's  what  Christina  says;  but  I  can't  help  it,  they 
are  a  grasping  lot,  they  monopolize  everything,  even  the 
Bible.  Let  me  read  to  you  from  Yokai,"  and  her  eyes 
wandered  over  the  books,  but  in  vain;  for  the  school 
master  had  cleared  his  shelves  of  Magyar  authors. 
"  I  hate  Yokai/5  he  said,  "  because  his  stories  are  full  of 
Magyars,  just  as  you  hate  the  Bible  because  it  is  full  of 
Jews.  Talk  to  me !  "  He  put  his  fingers  to  his  lips,  for  it 
hurt  him  to  speak.  The  church  bells  were  almost  drown 
ing  her  voice  by  their  din. 

"  They  are  eternally  quarreling ! "  Sonya  said  petul 
antly.  "  The  Catholic  bells  say  'D-i-n-g-!  d-o-n-g!  Take 
your  time,  there  is  no  hurry,  the  church  is  open  all  the 
day,  all  the  day,  all  the  day.'  And  then  they  come  down 
with  a  bang !  *  Be  sure  you  come  to  this  church !  Be 
sure  you  come  to  this  church!  for  if  you  don't  you  will 
be  damned !  damned !  damned ! ' 

"  Our  bells  are  in  an  awful  hurry.  They  say :  '  Ding, 
dong;  ding,  dong;  ding,  dong!  Church  is  open  once  a 


158      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

week,  once  a  week ! '  And  then,  they  sort  of  die  down 
as  if  to  say:  '  Come  if  you  please,  come  if  you  please, 
come  if  you  please/  And  I  should  like  to  go — but  I 
can't,  I  mustn't— 

She  did  not  tell  the  schoolmaster  why  she  mustn't.  She 
rattled  on:  "You  are  afraid  of  Christina,  aren't  you, 
schoolmaster?  Everybody  loves  her  and  is  afraid  of 
her."  The  feverish  cheek  of  the  schoolmaster  grew  pale 
and  he  closed  his  eyes  and  fancied  he  saw  Christina  bend 
ing  over  him,  listening  to  the  words  of  love  he  dared  not 
speak.  Her  sister  prattled  on. 

"  They  went  to  church  together  to-day,  and  he  is  going 
to  preach/'  He  nodded  his  head;  he  knew,  and  it  hurt 
him,  because  he  knew  that  Sonya  knew  it  hurt  him. 

"You  are  jealous  of  him,  aren't  you?"  she  asked, 
smiling  at  him  and  stroking  his  hot  forehead.  "  Don't  be 
jealous."  She  whispered  it  to  him,  at  the  same  time 
hiding  her  head.  "  And  don't  you  say  anything  to  any 
body  about  it;  you  know  there  is  nothing  to  tell — just 
now,"  she  added  after  a  short  pause.  "  But  there  will  be 
a  whole  lot  to  tell  some  day,  only  don't  be  jealous.  Chris 
tina  loves  everybody,  and  you,  schoolmaster,  more  than 
anybody  else." 

She  patted  his  cheek.  "  I  don't  blame  her,  for  you 
are  dear,  and  sweet,  and  good.  But  I  don't  love  every 
body.  I  hate  the  Jews  and  the  peasants,  and  sometimes 
I  hate  Christina,  and  I  love — well,  I  won't  tell  you,  you 
naughty  man,  whom  I  love."  Then  she  drew  the  cover 
tightly  about  his  neck  and  kissed  him  on  the  forehead. 
"  I  would  love  you  too,  schoolmaster,  but  your  heart  is 
mortgaged,  there  isn't  anything  left  to  love."  Just  then 
the  massive  head  of  Dr.  Makutchky  was  thrust  in  at  the 
door.  "  I  am  not  disturbing,  am  I  ?  "  he  growled. 

"  I  am  just  about  to  go,"  Sonya  replied,  "  and  I  am 
kissing  the  schoolmaster  good-by."  She  put  on  her 


SWEET  STRYCHNINE  159 

hat,  and  then  finding  she  had  her  arm  in  the  wrong 
sleeve  of  her  coat:  "  You  are  a  horrid  man!  Why  don't 
you  be  gallant  and  help  a  lady?" 

"  Because  you  don't  intend  to  go,  and  I  don't  want 
you  to  go,"  replied  the  doctor,  his  gruffness  modified  a 
good  many  degrees.  "  You  are  as  good  as  a  dose  of 
strychnine  for  my  patient." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  doctor,"  she  said, 
trailing  her  coat  on  the  floor  as  she  came  close  to  him; 
"  please  paste  a  label  with  crossbones  and  skull  on  me, 
so  that  everybody  will  be  properly  warned." 

"  She  is  a  honey  jar,  you  old  bear,"  the  schoolmaster 
whispered ;  "  and  bears  like  honey,"  Sonya  added,  lift 
ing  her  face  temptingly  to  the  doctor;  "that  is,  decent 
bears  do.  Old,  crabbed  bears  like  you,  like " 

"  Strychnine,  Sonya  dear,  strychnine ;  and  I  do  like 
you.  That  is,"  he  added  cautiously,  "  I  like  to  see  you 
here  with  the  schoolmaster.  Christina  lifts  him  up  to 
Heaven  when  she  comes,  and  our  job  is  to  keep  him  on 
Earth;  so,  Sonya  dear,  take  off  your  hat.  But  why 
aren't  you  in  church  ?  "  he  asked  rather  sharply,  going 
about  his  usual  tasks. 

"  Why  aren't  you  in  church  ?  "  she  replied  tartly. 

"What  would  become  of  my  patients?" 

"  You  ought  to  be  in  church  praying  for  them." 

"  My  patients  don't  need  praying  for,  except  this  one, 
and  Christina  is  doing  that.  It's  the  people  who  are  in 
church  who  need  it,"  he  added,  looking  out  upon  the 
street  where  the  shops  were  being  closed  hurriedly,  and 
huddled,  anxious  Jews  were  running  toward  the  syna 
gogue. 

"  They  ought  to  be  used  to  it  by  this  time,"  the  school 
master  remarked,  after  the  doctor  conveyed  to  them  his 
fears  of  a  riot. 

"  As  we  are  used  to  the  coming  of  cholera  or  of  war," 


160      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

was  the  reply.  Sonya  wanted  to  know  whether  he  be 
lieved  that  the  Jews  had  killed  Susanka.  He  turned  upon 
her  fiercely  and  called  her  a  stupid  goose;  for  no  sensible 
person  would  believe  such  old  wives'  fables.  If  she  was 
a  stupid  goose,  then  there  must  be  a  lot  of  stupid  gan 
ders;  for  she  had  heard  it  from  the  men,  she  retorted  in 
her  iciest  manner. 

Dr.  Makutchky  looked  critically  at  the  thermometer  he 
had  just  taken  from  the  lips  of  his  patient,  then  put  his 
hand  to  his  lips,  cautioning  Sonya.  Three  solemn  strokes 
floating  in  from  the  Catholic  church  announced  the  ele 
vation  of  the  Host,  and  within  a  few  minutes  crowds 
were  hurrying  from  the  sacred  portals  and  the  crash  of 
broken  glass  was  heard;  while  Father  Anton  Kalman 
with  trembling  lips  was  saying,  "  Pax  vobiscum." 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN:  THE  RIOT 

STEPHAN  HRUBY  and  his  wife  were  sitting  in  their 
stiff  backed  pew,  the  next  to  the  last,  as  behooved 
serving  people;  for  while  the  Lord  is  no  respecter  of 
persons  or  of  purses,   the  church  accepts  the  world's 
judgment  as  to  who  shall  be  the  first  or  the  last. 

However,  the  pews  were  all  alike,  uncomfortable,  the 
only  yielding  thing  about  them  being  the  varnish,  the 
delight  of  the  children,  whose  fingers  and  toes  had 
scratched  upon  it  the  various  symbols  of  their  passing 
stages,  while  the  minister  had  left  them  unimpressed  by 
his  "  firstlies  "  and  "  lastlies."  The  markings  ranged  all 
the  way  from  a  pig,  done  in  straight  lines,  to  a  heart,  ex 
ceedingly  lean  on  one  side  and  bulging  on  the  other,  into 
which  the  perpetrator  had  cut  a  sharply  pointed  dart. 

The  children  who  had  left  their  marks  were  all  gone, 
and  Elzabetha  Hruby  viewed  them  with  melancholy  in 
terest,  and  a  smile  curved  her  sad  lips  as  she  remembered 
that  the  boy  who  had  so  often  been  slapped  for  attempt 
ing  to  deepen  the  lines  with  his  penknife,  when  his  finger 
nails  had  done  the  tracing,  was  now  sitting  in  the  pulpit, 
his  head  buried  in  his  hands  to  shut  out  the  world,  with 
which  he  had  become  one,  and  to  invoke  the  Divine 
power,  which  he  had  found  elusive  and  not  easily  sum 
moned  for  special  occasions.  In  the  midst  of  her  joy  at 
seeing  her  son  in  the  pulpit,  Elzabetha  suffered,  as  all 
mothers  before  her  have,  whose  children  by  growing  up 
have  grown  away.  She  suffered  a  little  more  keenly ;  for 
the  joy  she  felt  at  seeing  her  son  at  his  goal,  lacked  much 
of  being  full  and  unmixed. 

161 


162      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

She  sang  the  long  meter  praises  sorrowfully,  depend 
ing  upon  her  husband's  reading  of  the  words,  and  they 
both  dragged  the  tune,  holding  on  to  each  note  for  safety, 
many  beats  behind  the  organ  and  the  patient  precentor. 

Her  husband  suffered  from  the  same  cause  as  she,  but 
not  in  the  same  way  or  in  the  same  place,  for  fathers  are 
not  so  closely  related  to  their  sons,  and  vanity  is  not  of 
the  heart.  After  all,  having  his  son  back  from  America 
was  not  what  Stephan  had  anticipated.  The  first  day's 
pride,  when  every  one  who  saw  him  (and  of  course 
every  one  had  seen  him)  said:  "Who  is  that  elegant 
looking  stranger  ?  It  certainly  can't  be  Stephan  Hruby's 
son!  "  was  lost  in  the  disgrace  of  his  arrest,  and  the  fact 
that  it  took  the  special  intervention  of  the  Pan  to  have 
him  invited  to  preach.  He  was  much  too  worldly,  this 
reverend  son  of  his,  mixing  in  all  sorts  of  things,  arous 
ing  the  anger  of  the  Baron  for  beating  him  at  tennis;  and 
what  business  did  he  have  playing  anyway  ?  Now  he  was 
deep  in  this  Jew  affair.  "  How  can  a  man  be  a  good 
Christian,"  he  said  to  his  reverend  son,  "  if  he  does  not 
hate  the  Jews?" 

These  things  were  bad  enough;  but  here  was  his  arch 
enemy,  Andrew  Feher,  whom  he  had  invariably  beaten 
at  his  boasts,  by  telling  of  his  son  in  America  who  was 
studying  to  be  a  minister.  He  had  reminded  Stephan 
that  his  son  was  after  all  only  a  "  Salvesh,"  and  that  by 
being  in  jail  he  had  rubbed  off  the  little  bit  of  sanctity 
which  might  have  clung  to  him.  "  Any  old  woman  can 
be  a  Salvesh  preacher,"  Andrew  Feher  had  said  to  him, 
while  he  chewed  his  peppered  Slanina  and  washed  it 
down  with  red  wine.  It  did  not  relieve  Stephan's  chagrin 
when  he  spat  in  his  enemy's  face  and  had  told  him  that 
even  a  "  Salvesh  "  was  better  than  being  coachman  in  a 
Jew  house ;  for  Andrew  replied  that  his  reverend  son  was 
not  too  proud  to  eat  at  the  Jew's  table,  and  that  he  was 


THE  RIOT  163 

running  after  Jewish  women.  There  was  his  son  now, 
in  the  pulpit,  and  no  thrill  of  pride  was  running  up  and 
down  his  spine,  as  he  expected;  only  a  sort  of  fear  lest 
by  preaching  poorly,  Yanek  might  make  a  bad  matter 
worse. 

The  Reverend  Geza  Kretchmar  had  reluctantly  invited 
Yanek  to  occupy  his  pulpit;  for,  as  he  had  told  the  Pan, 
he  was  not  quite  sure  that  he  was  properly  ordained,  and 
he  still  had  his  misgivings.  "  These  Americans/'  he  said, 
"  bring  back  all  sorts  of  bastard  religions.  There  are 
Methodists  who  shout,  and  Holy  Rollers  who  dance,  and 
Baptists  who  immerse,  and  the  Salvesh  who  preach  and 
pray  everywhere,  and  who  never  mention  the  true  faith, 
but  tell  people  to  be  good  and  abstain  from  strong  drink 
and  from  fighting  and  from  licentiousness !  As  if  people 
could  be  saved  by  anything  but  faith." 

"  Religions  must  grow  like  weeds  in  America,"  he  said 
to  Yanek  as  he  was  helping  him  into  his  gown.  "At 
least  they  grow,"  he  replied,  "  which  is  a  sign  of  good 
soil." 

"  But  they  are  weeds  which  choke  the  pure  word  of 
God,"  rejoined  the  pastor.  Yanek  wanted  to  tell  him 
that  even  bastard  faiths  are  better  than  sterile  creeds, 
that  the  soul  of  America  is  young,  and  alive,  and  im 
provable;  but  he  said  nothing,  for  he  wanted  to  enter  the 
sanctuary  in  peace,  and  there  was  enough  tumult  in  his 
soul. 

To  him,  as  to  his  parents,  the  moment  he  had  so  long 
anticipated  brought  no  such  elation  as  he  expected.  No 
burning  coal  from  a  fiery  altar  had  touched  his  lips.  He 
had  struggled  with  a  dozen  alluring  texts  which  might 
give  wings  to  his  thoughts,  but  they  hung  like  lead  upon 
his  brain,  and  there  was  no  Divine  heat  to  melt  them  into 
a  living  stream,  and  no  voice  from  Heaven  commanded 
him  to  "  cry  and  spare  not."  Instead,  he  was  thinking 


164      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

of  what  would  please  Christina  most,  or  what  impression 
he  would  make  upon  his  parents,  of  how  the  brass  would 
sound,  or  the  cymbal  tinkle,  so  that  the  good  people  of 
Hraszova  might  say :  "  What  a  fine  preacher  Yanek 
Hruby  is !  Who  would  have  thought  it  ?  " 

Yet  he  had  one  mastering  desire.  He  wanted  to  allay 
the  aroused  anger  of  the  people.  He  wanted  to  borrow 
strength  from  Him  who  cried  "  Peace  "  to  the  storm, 
and  whose  words  could  quiet  the  tumult  of  the  world. 
In  all  the  waverings  of  his  young  faith  he  clung  close  to 
the  divinest  of  the  teachings  of  Jesus;  he  saw  the  sum 
mit  of  the  mountain  though  he  lost  the  foot-hills. 

Many  a  time  he  had  fore-visioned  this  scene.  Row 
upon  row  of  sheepskin-coated  peasants;  the  red  coats 
with  white  trimmings,  and  white  coats  with  red  trim 
mings  ;  the  red  was  deeper  than  he  had  seen  it  in  his  pic 
ture,  and  the  white  was  yellow  like  straw,  like  wild  pop 
pies  in  a  field  of  wheat,  and  there  were  blue  skirts  and 
bluer  trousers,  like  the  cornflowers  which  bordered  the 
fields.  The  Reverend  Geza  Kretchmar  had  spoiled  the 
picture  for  him  by  insisting  upon  putting  some  Eau  de 
Cologne  on  his  gown ;  "  for  our  peasants  have  no  art 
sense  in  their  noses/'  and  so  he  became  conscious  of  the 
odor  of  old  leather,  and  of  the  acrid  taste  of  wool  which 
assailed  his  palate,  and  the  stifling  scent  of  garlic,  of 
which  a  little  is  such  a  sure  sign  of  culinary  culture,  and 
too  much  is — merely  garlic. 

Now  he  sat  in  the  pulpit.  Hanging  precariously  above 
the  heads  of  the  congregation  was  the  organ  loft,  where 
his  beloved  schoolmaster  used  to  sit,  playing  the  organ 
while  he  pumped  the  bellows,  and  between  the  hymns 
and  during  the  long  sermon  he  would  look  at  the  pictures 
in  the  magazines  the  schoolmaster  was  reading.  Later 
he  read  them  himself,  and  was  not  able  to  wait  from 
one  Sabbath  to  the  other  to  finish  the  story  which  at  its 


THE  RIOT  165 

most  thrilling  moment  was  broken  into  by  the  demand 
for  "  wind."  The  hymns  were  interminable  and  the 
organ  had  the  consumption  long  before  the  schoolmaster 
contracted  it  in  prison. 

Everything  was  as  he  had  pictured  it,  except  that  the 
church  looked  smaller  and  the  bell  rope  which  hung  in 
the  vestibule  was  thinner,  and  the  young  had  grown  old 
beyond  his  recognition,  and  the  old  people  had  as  many 
wrinkles  as  there  were  new  cracks  on  the  whitewashed 
ceiling.  There  were  children  who  looked  more  or  less 
like  their  parents,  as  if  God  could  bring  forth  nothing 
new  out  of  this  human  race,  which  once  He  had  made  in 
His  own  image;  and  after  all,  how  could  God  improve 
upon  Himself? 

He  felt  Christina's  presence,  though  he  did  not  see  her, 
the  Pan's  and  the  Baron's  pews  being  right  under  the 
shadow  of  the  pulpit.  That  was  well,  for  after  all,  she 
had  looked  deeper  into  his  divided  life  than  he  himself 
had  seen;  she  had  no  illusions  about  him,  she  knew  that 
he  was  neither  Prophet  nor  Apostle,  only  a  disciple  fol 
lowing  "  afar  off,"  and  she  was  not  quite  sure  that  he 
would  follow  far. 

His  father  watched  him  critically.  He  did  not  think 
that  he  stepped  with  sufficiently  measured  reverence 
toward  the  pulpit,  and  when  he  opened  the  Bible  to 
announce  his  text,  and  then  did  not  fold  his  hands  over 
his  stomach,  as  the  pastor  always  did,  he  was  sure  that 
Andrew  Feher  was  right  when  he  said  that  his  son  was  a 
"  Salvesh." 

In  his  mother's  face  Yanek  saw  absolute  confidence, 
undisturbed  by  the  missteps  she  had  seen  him  take.  Her 
heart  was  aglow  from  an  anxious  anticipation,  and  when 
she  heard  his  deep,  mellow  voice,  her  lips  moved  and  she 
was  saying  to  herself,  "  My  golden  boy,  my  golden 
Yanek!" 


166      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 


The  Babushka  had  come  in  her  yellow  cart.  It  was  a 
rare  thing  to  see  her  in  church  these  days,  and  her  lips 
were  moving  and  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  preacher 
as  if  to  say  to  him,  "  I  am  praying  for  you;  just  lean  hard 
on  God."  Her  lips  were  moving  in  prayer,  while  he  was 
loosening  the  knots  he  had  tied  around  the  simple  but 
profound  text :  "  Faith,  Hope  and  Love,  and  the  greatest 
of  these  is  Love." 

Young  preachers  have  always  chosen  the  most  beau 
tiful  and  difficult  texts,  and  it  is  well  so,  for  their  congre 
gations  were  sure  to  hear  one  wise  saying  often  repeated. 
Yanek  saw  his  mother  weeping,  when  he  reminded  all  the 
mothers  of  their  love  for  their  children,  even  when  faith 
in  them  wavered,  and  hope  had  grown  dim.  Love  and 
love  alone  kept  the  fires  of  the  heart  warm.  "  Love,"  he 
said,  "  travels  through  all  space,  even  over  to  America, 
after  the  boys  and  girls  who  may  have  forgotten  their 
parents."  The  men  looked  sober  as  he  reminded  them 
that  their  love  had  failed  them,  but  then  they  were  like 
the  Prodigal  Son,  who  was  not  himself,  it  was  just  his 
lower  self  running  away  from  home,  drawn  by  his  desire 
for  a  good  time,  and  his  love  was  confused  with  passion. 
He  intended  to  say  much  upon  this  point,  for  it  was  here 
that  both  the  men  and  women  had  failed  most,  and  the 
whole  trouble  that  they  were  facing  about  the  Redlich 
nurse  was  due  to  their  not  knowing  the  one  from  the 
other.  He  was  preaching  to  himself  most  of  all,  and  his 
voice  trembled,  and  he  was  glad  that  he  could  not  see 
Christina,  and  that  Sonya  was  not  in  the  church. 

His  father  was  most  displeased  when  the  preacher  told 
his  congregation  that  love  was  the  greatest  thing,  even 
in  dealing  with  animals,  and  that  a  good  coachman  could 
do  more  with  his  horses  by  kindness  than  with  a  curse 
and  the  whip.  "  What's  the  use  reminding  his  congrega 
tion  that  he  is  a  coachman's  son?  Doesn't  he  have  any 


THE  RIOT  167 

pride,  and  what  has  that  to  do  with  religion  anyway?" 
Stephan  whispered  to  Elzabetha. 

The  men  began  stiffening  their  backs  so  that  one  could 
hear  the  pews  creak  as  they  braced  themselves  against 
them,  when  Yanek  pleaded  with  them  to  meet  the  prob 
lem  of  Susanka's  disappearance  with  patience;  that  the 
Jews  were  after  all  God's  children  and  not  guilty  of  such 
a  crime  as  they  imagined,  in  the  name  of  religion.  It 
was  the  one  moment  when  he  really  preached,  and  did 
not  merely  thresh  homiletical  straw.  Here  he  knew  he 
could  speak  in  God's  name;  but  the  more  he  pleaded,  the 
more  restless  his  congregation  grew,  and  then  he  became 
conscious  of  failure.  The  one  thread  to  which  he  held 
so  bravely  broke,  and  like  a  drowning  man  who  breathed 
water,  so  his  words  came  back  upon  his  mind  and 
choked  it. 

The  pastor  offered  a  long,  cold,  clammy,  formal  prayer 
which  fell  upon  the  ears  of  the  people  like  the  thin  stream 
of  the  Hraszova  fire  hose  upon  a  burning  isba,  doing  just 
as  little  good;  and  before  the  last  hymn  was  sung,  half 
the  congregation  was  at  the  door,  Yanek's  own  father 
leading  the  rabble. 

In  the  Roman  Catholic  church  the  congregation  was 
larger.  There  were  fewer  worshipers  in  sheepskin  coats, 
while  the  court  dignitaries  and  the  Captain  of  Gendarmes 
gave  to  the  religious  atmosphere  the  official  sanction 
which  Father  Imre  Baczko  needed  for  the  nationalistic 
note  in  his  preaching.  Father  Kalman  was  unusually 
restless  under  the  ordeal,  and  dissented  so  visibly  that  the 
congregation  noticed  it,  and  there  was  much  whispering 
and  questioning  as  to  the  cause. 

'  The  old  man  is  beside  himself,"  some  of  the  younger 
people  remarked,  "  and  what  a  good  thing  it  is  that  we 
have  this  robust,  wholesome  curate."  Once  Father  Kal 
man  rose  from  his  seat,  as  if  to  interrupt  the  preacher; 


168      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

but  after  taking  a  step,  he  sat  down  again.  What  saved 
him  from  committing  such  an  indiscretion  was  his  snuff 
tobacco  box,  which  was  his  ever  present  help  in  time  of 
trouble.  He  took  a  small  pinch  of  snuff  to  steady  his 
nerves. 

"  The  Jews  are  a  sore  spot  in  the  national  body!  "  the 
preacher  cried,  pounding  the  pulpit  for  emphasis.  "  Un- 
assimilated,  they  maintain  their  Little  Jerusalem  in  Hun 
gary  ! "  And  he  called  upon  St.  Stephan  and  St.  Eliza 
beth,  and  the  other  national  saints  and  heroes,  to  rise 
from  their  graves,  and  save  the  nation  trom  becoming 
Slavonized  or  Judaized.  He  threw  in  occasional  morsels 
of  the  Gospel,  as  if  it  were  holy  water  with  which  he 
sprinkled  a  corpse. 

"  Why,  in  Heaven's  holy  name,"  Father  Kalman  said 
to  himself,  when  he  had  taken  his  third  dose  of  snuff  and 
had  painfully  suppressed  the  natural  consequences, 
"  doesn't  he  talk  about  chastity  ?  What  is  there  in  most 
cases  like  Susanka's  but  just  plain  lust?  Aren't  our 
Slovak  women  giving  themselves  to  lustful  Jews  or  to 
the  Magyars  or  to  any  one  else,  because  they  are  prom 
ised  broader  laces  for  their  caps,  and  rustling  satins  for 
their  skirts,  when  cotton  would  become  them  better? 
Aren't  they  all  going  to  the  devil  as  fast  as  they  can?  " 
Then  he  crossed  himself,  a  pinch  of  snuff  grasped  be 
tween  his  badly  stained  thumb  and  forefinger.  So  ex 
cited  was  he  that  he  took  the  snuff  right  there  in  plain 
sight  of  the  congregation,  and  sneezed  so  loud  and  often 
that  the  curate  stopped  in  his  harangue  and  looked 
reprovingly  at  his  superior. 

'  You  didn't  like  my  sermon,  Father,"  the  preacher 
said  haughtily  when  they  met  at  the  door  of  the  sacristy, 
and  his  tone  indicated  that  he  did  not  care  whether  the 
priest  liked  it  or  not.  Father  Kalman  had  other  things 
on  his  mind.  He  had  seen  the  crowd  jostling  itself  out 


THE  RIOT  169 

of  church,  and  heard  the  sound  of  breaking  glass,  the 
usual  beginning  of  a  "  Jew  baiting."  He  was  thinking  of 
his  dear  friend  Moritz  Redlich,  and  was  eager  to  go  to 
him.  "  You  know  I  am  a  patriot,"  the  curate  called  after 
the  priest  as  he  swung  the  door  open,  not  even  waiting  to 
take  off  his  vestments.  "  And  /  am  trying  to  be  a  Chris 
tian/'  he  said  to  himself,  making  straight  for  the  house 
of  his  friend. 

The  Slovak  is  the  best  natured  among  the  Slavs,  if 
not  among  all  the  Europeans.  Too  simple  minded  to  be 
shrewd,  too  kindly  to  be  a  consistent  hater,  his  blood  runs 
too  slowly  through  his  veins  to  impel  him  to  fight,  unless 
urged  by  strong  drink  or  the  worse  intoxication  induced 
by  the  mob.  "  Live  and  let  live  "  isn't  one  of  his  mottoes. 
He  is  perfectly  willing  to  let  live,  he  does  not  even  ask  for 
a  living,  and  as  a  consequence  he  has  always  been  badly 
exploited  by  the  shrewder  Jew  and  the  more  masterful 
Magyar.  On  this  particular  Sunday,  however,  he  was  a 
fighter,  for  his  blood  had  been  stirred  by  religious  and 
national  fanaticism;  but  he  was  not  out  to  kill.  He  broke 
windows,  drank  the  Jew's  Palenka,  purloined  from  the 
dramshops,  and  pulled  the  beards  of  those  Jews  who  were 
not  quick  enough  to  seek  the  shelter  of  the  syagogue. 
In  front  of  Sandor  Redlich's  house  the  crowd  was  densest 
and  yelled  itself  hoarse,  demanding  the  body  of  Susanka, 
while  calling  the  Jews  the  worst  name  they  knew :  "  Christ 
killers." 

Inside  the  house  the  family  surrounded  Rosa's  bed 
side.  The  bereaved  young  mother  lay  dying,  and  the 
groaning  relatives  stood  helplessly  by,  watching  Moritz 
Redlich,  the  only  one  among  them  who  had  retained  his 
senses.  He  had  recovered  his  strength  miraculously,  his 
cough  seemed  to  have  vanished  and  he  was,  as  usual,  the 
prop  upon  which  they  all  leaned.  His  wife  was  pros 
trate  on  a  couch,  whimpering  and  calling  upon  God  to 


170      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

stay  His  vengeance,  confessing  every  one's  sins  but  her 
own. 

Father  Kalman  was  making  his  way  through  the  crowd 
outside,  pleading,  unheard  and  unheeded,  as  he  slowly 
advanced,  holding  up  his  crucifix,  the  passport  of  his 
self -sacrificing  soul.  Reaching  the  barred  door  he  stood, 
with  cross  uplifted,  facing  the  mob  which  slowly  yielded 
to  the  mute  appeal,  and  made  its  way  to  the  synagogue 
behind  whose  sacred  walls  the  Jews  were  calling  upon 
Jehovah  to  be  their  shelter  in  this  time  of  storm. 

Yanek  and  Christina  were  at  the  edge  of  the  crowd 
among  the  few  who  wanted  to  do  something  to  help,  but 
did  not  know  what.  "  Look !  "  cried  Yanek,  pointing 
to  the  old  Starychek  whom  he  had  learned  to  know  in 
his  first  encounter  with  the  law.  He  was  standing  on 
top  of  the  synagogue  wall,  seemingly  oblivious  to  the 
clods  of  earth  thrown  at  him,  and  holding  up  a  wet 
garment  which  he  waved  frantically.  Yanek  caught  his 
meaning  and  called  for  silence;  the  name  of  Susanka  was 
heard,  and  then  Dr.  Makutchky  sprang  upon  the  wall, 
and  reluctantly  the  peasants  grew  quiet.  The  doctor 
told  them  that  the  body  of  Susanka  had  been  found  by 
the  Starychek.  At  that,  the  howling  began  again  and 
the  mob  rushed  upon  him. 

The  doctor  shouted :  "  She  was  found  drowned  in  the 
river,  and  there  was  no  mark  of  violence  upon  her!  " 

"  How  much  money  did  the  Jews  pay  you  to  say 
that?"  some  one  shouted  at  him.  He  evidently  was  a 
stranger,  for  no  one  who  knew  the  doctor  would  accuse 
him  of  ever  having  done  anything  either  good  or  evil, 
for  money. 

The  people  listened  as  he  pleaded  with  them  to  dis 
perse  and  go  home.  The  force  of  the  mob  being  broken 
at  the  edges,  it  began  to  loosen,  then  the  center  gave 
way,  and  though  there  was  much  muttering  about  the 


THE  RIOT  171 

"  Salvesh  "  who  spoiled  a  perfectly  good  "  Jew  baiting," 
and  a  few  more  stones  were  thrown  into  the  already 
broken  Avindows,  order  was  soon  restored. 

That  Sunday  evening  was  the  quietest  in  a  great  many 
years;  for  there  was  no  dance,  the  inns  remained  closed, 
and  now  that  everything  was  over,  the  gendarmes  pa 
trolled  the  streets. 

About  midnight  Rosa  Redlich  followed  her  baby  into 
the  great  beyond.  Closest  to  her  was  Father  Anton 
Kalman,  who  laid  his  hands  upon  her  forehead,  which 
seemed  to  soothe  her.  In  the  next  room  was  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky,  silent  before  the  great  mystery,  but  holding 
his  sobbing,  broken  hearted  comrade  in  his  arms. 

Stephan  Hruby  went  to  his  hard  bed  after  a  quarrel 
with  his  wife,  whom  he  accused  of  having  spoiled  her 
son.  "If  he  were  not  a  minister,  though  a  mighty  poor 
one  he  is,  I  would  slap  his  face  for  that  "  Salvesh  " 
sermon.  Any  old  Baba  could  talk  such  mushy  stuff! 
What  is  the  use  of  his  having  studied  so  many  years  if 
all  he  could  talk  about  is  how  to  take  care  of  horses  and 
how  mothers  love  their  children?  There  wasn't  a  word 
of  sound  doctrine  in  the  whole  sermon." 

Elzabetha  knew  that  the  best  thing  to  do  at  such  a  time 
was  to  say  nothing;  so  the  old  man  went  to  sleep,  while 
Yanek  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  isba  waiting 
till  his  parents  were  asleep,  for  he  did  not  care  to  meet 
them  after  his  dismal  failure  of  the  morning.  He  was 
hungry,  yet  he  did  not  touch  the  food  his  mother  had 
left  on  the  kitchen  table.  He  undressed  in  the  dark  and 
climbed  into  his  bed.  He  could  not  rest,  for  he  kept 
preaching  his  sermon  over  and  over,  try  as  he  might 
to  drive  it  from  his  brain. 

Suddenly  his  mother  called :  "  Sinyitchku  muy,  why 
don't  you  sleep?"  He  did  not  reply.  Then  he  heard 
her  bare  feet  upon  the  floor,  and  she  crept  into  his  bed. 


172      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Putting  her  arms  around  him,  she  pressed  him  close  and 
said  again  and  again,  "  You  are  right  my  son !  You 
preached  a  golden  sermon.  The  greatest  of  these  is  love." 
He  kissed  her  and  said :  "  Yes,  mother,  '  Love  never 
faileth.'  " 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN:  MATER  DOLOROSA 

IN  Hraszova  news  wasn't  news  if  it  was  not  bad 
news;  unless  some  one  won  the  first  prize  in  the 
lottery,  or  a  young  swain  married  one  of  the  servant 
girls  he  had  seduced,  or  the  train  from  Trnava  came 
in  on  time;  things  which  never  happened  and  were  not 
likely  to  happen  in  Hraszova.  There  had  been  news 
enough  lately  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  shortening 
days;  news  which  made  the  old  women  weep,  and  the 
old  men  shake  their  heads,  and  the  young  people  run  un 
necessary  errands,  so  that  they  might  be  able  to  say: 
"And  did  you  hear  the  news?"  But  the  news  of  this 
day  was  really  news,  bad  news,  the  very  worst,  though 
it  had  been  long  expected;  and  on  that  cold,  raw  October 
day  there  were  sorrowful  groups  of  people  standing  at  the 
broad  gateway  of  Attorney  Finor's  house,  looking  up 
to  the  schoolmaster's  windows,  not  saying  anything,  for 
in  that  anxious  pause  between  life  and  death,  even  the 
loose  tongues  of  Hraszova's  news-hungry  population 
were  still. 

Every  one  who  passed  stopped,  until  the  crowd  grew 
so  great  that  the  protector  of  the  law,  the  Captain  of 
Gendarmes,  sent  an  officer  to  investigate  as  to  whether 
tthe  assembling  of  so  many  people  was  not  against  para 
graph  this  or  that.  He  found  that  they  were  absolutely 
silent,  which  made  him  the  more  suspicious;  so  he 
ascended  the  steps  and  knocked  at  the  door.  Dr. 
Makutchky  opened  it  and  told  him  to  tell  the  Captain  that 
the  people  were  "  waiting  till  the  Hungarian  Govern 
ment  had  finished  executing  the  schoolmaster/'  and  he 

173 


174      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

closed  the  door  so  quickly  that  the  officer  hardly  had 
time  to  withdraw  his  waxed  mustachios. 

Very  soon  two  gendarmes  with  their  bayonets  fixed 
to  their  guns,  began  walking  up  and  down  in  front  of 
the  house,  driving  the  crowd  from  the  sidewalk,  under 
the  pretext  that  traffic  was  interfered  with.  "  Traffic 
indeed!  Who  cared  to  go  anywhere,  anyway,  a  day 
like  this  ?  "  the  crowd  seemed  to  say.  "  We  have  come 
to  watch  a  great  soul  take  its  flight,  and  what  is  buying 
and  selling,  or  getting  bread  from  the  bake  oven,  or  even 
chopping  wood  for  the  winter,  which  is  at  the  door?" 

The  peasants  stopped  their  ox  teams,  and  the  fiacre 
and  omnibus  which  were  going  to  meet  the  ten  o'clock 
train  stayed  until  the  drivers  heard  the  whistles  echoing 
in  the  Bashanyitea,  and  then  they  drove  reluctantly 
away,  saying  a  mute  good-by,  as  they  looked  at  the 
tightly  closed  windows,  upon  which  all  eyes  were  fixed. 

Up  there,  was  a  deeper  silence  still.  Nothing  was 
heard  but  the  spasmodic  breathing  of  the  dying  school 
master.  His  eyes  were  half  closed,  and  seemed  to  look 
within,  as  if  he  were  watching  his  dying,  and  his 
awakening  in  the  other  world. 

Yanek  who  was  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  was 
reminded  of  the  flickering  candle  which  he  used  to  watch 
burning  to  the  end;  the  wavering  wick  swimming  in  the 
melted  tallow,  almost  drowned  by  it,  then  righting  itself, 
flaring  up  for  a  moment,  and  again  swimming  toward 
the  darkness. 

Christina,  looking  more  than  ever  like  the  Mater 
Dolorosa,  was  close  to  the  schoolmaster,  his  head  sup 
ported  by  her  arm,  his  hand  clasped  in  hers.  She  was 
suffering,  but  there  was  a  smile  upon  her  face;  for  if  he 
recognized  her,  she  wanted  him  to  see  that  she  still  had 
faith  and  confidence  in  that  Pilot  who  meant  so  much 
to  her,  and  whom  she  had  vainly  urged  on  him  for  his 


MATER  DOLOROSA  175 

guidance.  Perhaps  God  would  grant  him  one  more 
moment  of  grace,  and  at  every  quiver  of  his  eyelids  she 
looked  longingly  at  him,  waiting  for  recognition.  At 
last  it  came,  like  the  sun  breaking  through  a  hopeless 
storm  cloud.  His  body  trembled  from  the  surge  of  new 
life,  the  tense  muscles  relaxed  and  he  smiled  with  in 
finite  content.  He  thought  he  had  been  dreaming,  he 
whispered,  and  now  he  knew  his  dream  was  true.  They 
were  really  married,  and  he  pressed  his  face  close  against 
her  arm  to  feel  its  warmth,  and  his  look  grew  radiant, 
as  if  he  had  achieved  his  heart' s  desire.  She  put  her 
arms  around  him  and  kissed  his  forehead,  and  he  drew 
her  to  him,  while  a  little  color  stole  into  his  cheek,  as 
if  he  were  half  ashamed  of  this  first  embrace. 

Then  he  saw  Yanek  and  the  doctor  and  the  bowl  of 
ice  beside  his  bed,  and  a  great  fear  crept  into  his  face, 
and  he  cried : ff  Mater  Dolorosa! "  His  body  grew  tense, 
he  fell  back  like  an  arrow  shot  into  the  air,  and  the  short, 
sweet  dream  was  over.  A  few  moments  later  when 
Yanek  had  taken  Christina  from  the  room,  the  doctor 
opened  the  window  and  called  down  to  the  waiting  people 
that  the  schoolmaster  was  no  more,  and  there  was  a 
sigh  as  if  breathed  by  one  person,  and  the  silence  was 
broken. 

"He  was  my  best  friend,"  one  of  the  weeping  crowd 
said,  and  then  another  and  another  repeated  the  same 
thing;  for  he  was  every  one's  best  friend,  and  could  the 
trees  have  spoken  they  would  have  added  their  testimony, 
for  to  them  as  well  as  to  humanity  he  had  brought  the 
finer  strains  of  life.  Not  all  the  men  or  all  the  trees 
had  responded  to  his  treatment  and  there  were  enough 
wild  trees  left  and  enough  coarse,  crude  human  nature 
still  to  be  improved;  but  he  was  one  of  the  few  men  who 
had  passed  away,  leaving  his  small  world  a  little  better, 
and  the  sum  of  good  a  little  larger. 


176      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

All  day  long  and  through  the  night,  the  gendarmes 
passed  up  and  down  the  street,  on  guard;  for  the  good 
and  the  great  are  more  perilous  to  the  brutal  State  dead, 
than  living. 

The  news  of  the  schoolmaster's  death  had  traveled 
quickly,  and  when  it  became  known  that  delegations  of 
Slovak  societies  were  preparing  to  come  to  the  funeral, 
a  public  funeral  was  forbidden.  Wenzel  Motichka,  the 
Bohemian  candymaker,  who  was  going  from  house  to 
house  under  cover  of  darkness,  urging  the  Slovaks  to 
make  a  demonstration  against  the  government  by  appear 
ing  at  the  funeral,  had  not  gone  very  far  till  he  was  ar 
rested;  but  others  took  up  the  work,  and  Hraszova  was 
seething  from  rebellion.  All  sorts  of  plans  were  made 
to  outwit  the  powers,  and  the  more  people  were  arrested, 
the  more  determined  grew  the  opposition. 

Yanek  and  Attorney  Finor  were  watching  beside  the 
dead,  Dr.  Makutchky  having  joined  them  at  midnight. 
They  were  drinking  coffee  and  discussing  the  Slovak's 
chances  of  political  freedom.  "  You  will  get  it  very 
soon,'*  the  doctor  said;  "  for  God  has  denied  govern 
ments  the  gift  of  wisdom,  in  spite  of  Solomon's  prayer 
for  it.  The  one  means  of  governments  for  achieving 
their  ends  is  force,  and  that  begets  force.  When  you 
Slovaks  have  your  own  government  you  will  put  your 
sons  into  uniforms  and  make  them  carry  guns  and  op 
press  other  people. 

"  Of  course  your  soldiers  will  have  uniforms  of  a  dif 
ferent  color,"  he  continued,  not  heeding  Attorney  Finor's 
interruption;  "but  they  will  shoot  with  the  same  kind 
of  guns.  The  guns  of  all  governments  are  the  same. 
Some  may  shoot  a  little  quicker  but  all  of  them  shoot 
straight.  You  will  put  other  men  who  oppose  you  into 
prison  and  the  men  whom  the  people  call  patriots,  you 
will  call  traitors. 


MATER  DOLOROSA  177 

"  Our  schoolmaster  was  a  great  man,  not  because  he 
was  a  good  Slovak,  but  because  he  was  a  broad  minded 
human  being." 

"  But  what  would  you  have  us  do  ?  "  Dr.  Finor  asked 
impatiently.  "  Would  you  have  us  bend  our  backs  be 
fore  our  masters  when  they  smite  us? " 

"  Well,"  he  replied,  looking  at  the  shrouded  body  of 
the  schoolmaster;  "  I  would,  after  all,  rather  be  the 
smitten  than  the  smiter.  You  can  afford  to  wait  God's 
time ;  for  He  works  very  methodically. 

"The  master  class  stops  breeding  its  own  kind;  it 
leaves  that  to  the  inferior  people.  Slovaks  have  three 
children  to  the  Magyar's  one.  I  have  had  five  cases  of 
apoplexy  in  two  years  among  young,  virile  Magyars  who 
gorged  themselves  with  meat  and  wine  and  hardened 
their  arteries  by  excesses.  If  the  schoolmaster  had  stuck 
to  the  children  and  to  the  trees  and  had  let  politics  alone 
he  would  be  living  to-day,  and  there  would  really  have 
been  a  wedding,  and  children — and  such  children !  " 

He  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room  in  his  nervous 
way,  shooting  his  sentences  at  them  as  if  they  were 
bullets,  which  they  were,  and  he  was  aiming  them  es 
pecially  at  Yanek,  who  knew  that  they  were  aimed  at  him. 

"  Parliamentary  election  and  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky,"  the 
doctor  replied  with  a  mild  sneer,  when  Yanek  offered 
his  excuse  for  meddling  in  politics;  "what  will  come 
of  it,  say  that  you  elect  him,  what  will  come  of  it?  There 
will  be  a  torchlight  procession  and  much  fine  talk,  and 
the  old  man  will  go  to  Budapestf  and  sit  there  and 
listen  to  long  speeches,  and  he  will  vote  as  others  persuade 
him  to  vote.  At  best  you  will  have  another  law  or  two  on 
the  statute  book,  and  more  work  for  the  lawyers.  I  beg 
your  pardon,  Mr.  Attorney,"  he  said  to  Dr.  Finor,  "  but 
for  Heaven's  sake,  let  this  poor  man  rest  in  peace,  and 
don't  drag  a  dead  man  into  your  politics." 


178      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"  You  are  a  hopeless  idealist,"  Dr.  Finor  replied,  and 
he  said  it  rather  cynically. 

"  No,"  retorted  the  doctor,  "  I  am  a  very  commonplace 
realist,  a  doctor  can't  be  anything  else;  but  I  am  a  very 
hopeful  Christian.  You'll  have  your  Slovak  kingdom 
in  a  few  years,  or  a  republic  or  something  else;  but  I 
know  that  some  day  there  will  be  only  one  Kingdom  upon 
the  Earth.  I  am  so  sure  of  it,  that  I  am  willing  to  let 
you  do  your  squabbling  and  fighting  about  language  and 
boundaries,  while  I  will  do  my  fighting  with  dirt  and 
drink,  and  evil  living  and  ignorance  of  the  laws  of 
God." 

"Can't  we  do  both?"  Yanek  asked,  his  opposition 
aroused  by  the  doctor's  dogmatic  attitude.  "  Can't  we 
give  to  Caesar  that  which  is  Caesar's  and  to  God  that 
which  is  God's?" 

"  That's  a  very  good  text  for  my  sermon,  Mr. 
Theologue;  but  not  for  yours.  Give  to  the  Romans 
all  that's  theirs;  pay  taxes,  obey  their  laws  where  they 
do  not  come  in  conflict  with  the  law  of  God,  and  give 
to  Caesar  that  which  is  Caesar's;  but  you  are  about  to 
give  to  Caesar  that  which  is  God's." 

"  Doctor,  you  don't  want  me  not  to  be  a  patriot  be 
cause  I  am  a  minister  ?  "  Yanek  cried,  louder  than  he 
should  have,  in  that  room. 

"  Pst,  young  man !  Don't  get  excited,  and  let's  not 
quarrel  here,"  the  doctor  said,  looking  at  the  body  of 
their  friend.  "  I  don't  say  that  you  should  not  love  the 
place  in  which  you  were  born,  or  the  people  of  whose 
blood  you  are,  or  the  country  in  which  you  live.  Do 
you  hear  them  out  there?  That's  the  Roman  guard 
changing  the  watch.  It  is  two  thousand  years  since  they 
began  doing  that;  they  were  afraid  then  of  the  dead 
whom  they  had  crucified,  and  they  are  still  afraid. 

"  Fear,  envy  and  hate  kept  the  soldiers  marching  up 


MATER  DOLOROSA  179 

and  down  by  the  tomb  of  Jesus.  They  did  not  watch  be 
cause  they  loved.  Those  who  loved,  came  with  spices 
and  ointments,  and  not  with  bullets  and  bayonets." 

"  He  is  a  crazy  Tolstoyan ! "  Attorney  Finor  said 
after  the  doctor  had  left  them.  "  He  is  doing  a  lot  of 
good  and  a  lot  of  harm,  but  that  kind  of  doctrine  is  not 
very  catching." 

"  It  isn't  a  cheap  doctrine,"  Yanek  replied,  looking 
abstractedly  into  the  empty  cup  before  him.  "It  isn't 
a  cheap  doctrine."  He  repeated  it  as  if  he  had  not  heard 
himself  saying  it  the  first  time.  He  had  toyed  with 
that  same  doctrine;  nearly  all  Christians  have,  who  find 
Jesus  in  the  Gospels  and  not  in  the  Old  Testament,  and 
the  kingdoms  of  this  world  have  remained  the  king 
doms  of  this  world  because  it  is  not  a  cheap  doctrine. 

There  was  to  be  no  funeral  procession  for  the  school 
master,  by  order  of  the  Captain  of  Gendarmes.  No 
crape  was  to  hang  on  any  door,  not  even  on  the  school- 
house  door,  and  it  was  not  to  be  worn  by  any  one  not 
entitled  to  wear  it.  That  was  hard  on  the  drygoods 
dealers  and  harder  on  the  oaktrees,  for  they  were  stripped 
of  their  sear  foliage  which  was  worn  by  every  Slovak 
man,  woman  and  child.  There  was  no  funeral  sermon; 
that  too  was  forbidden.  Just  the  services  for  the  dead, 
chanted  in  a  dull  monotone,  by  the  Lutheran  minister. 

Three  women  followed  closest  to  the  casket;  Christina, 
Sonya  and  Yanek's  mother,  and  there  were  three  old 
men;  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company  and  that  was  the 
last  time  the  people  of  Hraszova  saw  them  walking  to 
gether.  It  happened  strangely  that  all  the  oxteams  of 
the  entire  region  seemed  to  be  coming  from  the  beet 
fields  at  the  time  of  the  burial.  They  were  loaded  to  the 
top  and  covered  with  tarpaulins,  because  it  threatened 
rain,  and  sugar  beets  must  not  get  wet.  The  wagons 
stopped  at  the  cemetery,  just  as  the  sad  little  procession 


180      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

reached  the  gate,  and  then  (of  course  it  just  happened 
so),  and  then — "Yes,  Pan  Capitan,"  one  of  the  gen 
darmes  reported  to  his  superior ;  "  then  the  tarpaulins 
were  thrown  back,  and  there  were  all  the  delegations  from 
all  around,  and  half  the  male  population  of  Hraszova, 
carrying  banners  draped  with  oak  leaves,  and  they  stood 
up  and  sang  the  national  Slovak  anthem.  "  What  should 
one  do  in  such  a  case,  Pan  Capitan?  "  Yes,  indeed,  whai, 
should  one  do? 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN:  THE  GOVERNMENT 
STRIKES 

A  prophet  is  a  man  who  sees  things  too  soon.  His 
picture  is  true  in  outline,  but  false  in  focus.  The 
mental  atmosphere  in  which  he  lives,  is  so  rarified,  that 
he  does  not  realize  how  far  away  the  mountains  are,  and 
he  expects  humanity  to  climb  them  while  it  is  yet  on  the 
plains. 

They  who  foretold  the  golden  day  of  Internationalism 
mistook  a  bright  star  for  the  dawn,  and  they  did  not 
see  the  thick  darkness  between.  There  will  be  dawn  and 
a  golden  morrow,  but  at  the  time  of  the  Hraszova  elec 
tion,  in  that  faraway  corner  of  the  earth,  nationalism 
was  rampant,  and  men  were  spilling  blood  over  the 
colors  of  their  bunting,  and  taking  the  lives  of  those  who 
would  not  pronounce  their  shibboleth. 

"Hey  there,  take  down  that  flag!"  A  mob  was 
shouting  in  front  of  a  straw-thatched  isba,  from  which 
waved  the  flag  of  a  nation  yet  to  be  born.  Mobs  are 
impatient  and  as  the  "  red  rooster  "  climbed  slowly  over 
the  weather  stained  thatch,  his  feathers  changed  from 
red  to  gold,  a  suffocating  smoke  rose  from  his  beak, 
and  he  spewed  flames  all  over  the  peaceful  dwelling. 
The  bells  from  the  church  steeple  rang  the  alarm,  and 
the  fire  engine  came  and  threw  its  thin,  ineffective  stream 
over  the  abode  of  an  innocent  family;  while  the  mob 
gleefully  cried:  "The  rooster  is  swimming!" 

Feather  beds,  the  treasure  of  the  Slovak  household,  were 
carried  gently  out,  crockery  was  hurled  from  the  window, 
and  frightened  women  and  children  ran  hither  and 
thither,  as  the  patriots  went  to  another  isba,  where  their 

181 


182      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

demand  did  not  have  to  be  repeated ;  for  the  offending 
flag  had  been  withdrawn,  and  the  hoisting  of  the  loyal 
colors,  saved  that  isba  from  the  attack  of  the  "  red 
rooster."  Another  mob,  a  Slovak  mob,  changed  the 
colors  over  night,  and  beat  the  offending  householder 
because  he  was  not  loyal  to  the  cause. 

It  is  the  day  before  the  election.  The  Gypsies  play 
lively  tunes.  Palenka  is  served  the  crowd  in  glasses 
decorated  in  the  colors  of  Hungary,  charming  ladies  pin 
red,  white  and  green  cockades  onto  the  hats  of  the  men, 
and  tie  ribbons  of  the  same  colors  on  the  arms  of  the 
children.  An  orator  has  climbed  the  railing  which  fences 
in  the  benign  patron  saint  of  the  town,  and  loudly 
proclaims  the  virtues  of  the  Magyar  candidate.  "  Vote 
for  the  government's  candidate!  A  vote  for  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky  is  a  vote  for  the  Russians,  who  are  only  wait 
ing  on  the  border  to  make  you  all  subjects  of  the  Czar. 
Your  land,  your  Christian  faith,  your  liberty  are  at 
stake!  Elyen!  Elyen!  Long  live  Hungary!"  and 
everybody  shouts  "Elyen!"  For  the  more  Ely  ens,  the 
more  drinks. 

If  the  voters  of  Hraszova  had  been  individually  asked 
what  they  wanted  their  deputy  to  Parliament  to  accom 
plish,  they  would  have  replied :  "  We  want  cheap  meat 
and  bread,  fewer  taxes  and  good  schools,  and  to  the 
devil  with  your  fear  of  the  Pan-Slavs!  " 

But,  notwithstanding  the  doctrine  of  economic  deter 
minism,  the  mass  of  men  cannot  be  inflamed  by  matters 
which  concern  the  stomach;  they  must  have  something 
to  hate,  or  to  love,  that  alone  welds  them  and  makes 
them  either  the  tool  of  demagogues  or  the  instruments 
of  the  saviors  of  a  country. 

Back  of  Pan  Vavra's  butcher  shop  there  was  much 
drinking  of  puckery  wine  and  fanning  the  flames  of  pa 
triotism  while  plans  were  made  to  outwit  the  govern- 


THE  GOVERNMENT  STRIKES  183 

ment  party.  Most  likely  the  bridges  to  the  north  would 
be  burned,  so  they  found  the  safe  places  to  ford,  and 
notified  their  constituents.  The  whole  proceeding  was 
much  too  mild  for  the  Czech  firebrand,  Wenzel  Motichka. 
He  wanted  the  Magyars  called  by  their  right  names: 
"  Asiatic  hordes,  decadent  descendants  of  the  Huns,  rob 
bers  of  Slovak  cradles  and  betrayers  of  Slovak  virgins." 
There  was  a  lively  tilt  between  him  and  Yanek,  who  still 
had  faith  in  truth,  and  hated  exaggerations.  He  wanted 
the  campaign  so  conducted  that  their  enemies  could  not 
accuse  them  on  the  pretext  of  having  interfered  with 
their  sacred  paragraphs.  "  He  is  an  American,  he 
knows,"  Pan  Bruno vsky  said,  and  the  magic  word  Amer 
ica  silenced  Wenzel's  vitriolic  opposition. 

The  Slovak  platform  was  very  moderate.  It  demanded 
manhood  suffrage,  freedom  of  the  press  and  a  Slovak 
secondary  school.  If  governments  had  wisdom,  which 
Dr.  Makutchky  doubted,  the  Slovak's  demands  would 
have  been  granted,  and  they  would  have  asked  for 
nothing  more ;  but  as  no  miracles  happen  in  government 
circles,  they  were  strenuously  opposed  and  labelled 
"  Pan-Slavistic  Propaganda."  Had  they  asked  for  an 
other  town  pump  or  a  new  fire  engine  the  request  would 
have  been  labelled  the  same  way. 

Yanek  had  traveled  from  village  to  village,  eluding 
the  gendarmes  and  outwitting  the  spies,  by  going  about 
dressed  in  peasant  clothes,  sleeping  in  isbas  and  working 
by  the  side  of  the  peasants  in  the  woods  as  they  were 
chopping  their  winter's  wood. 

What  simple  and  kindly  people  they  were,  not  know 
ing  much  besides  reading  and  writing,  and  often  they 
had  forgotten  the  little  they  had  learned  in  the  schools. 
They  were  wretchedly  poor  because  they  were  paying  for 
the  pageantry  of  the  courts,  whose  pomp  they  had  never 
seen,  and  they  were  suffering  from  past  wars,  in  which 


184      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

victory  or  defeat  brought  them  nothing  but  more 
taxes. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  was  their  invariable  reply ;  "  but  every 
thing  is  growing  dearer,  even  our  Palenka  is  taxed  till 
it  has  become  a  luxury  to  most  of  us.  Will  Pan  Yan 
Szenitzky,  when  he  gets  to  Budapest,  reduce  the  taxes?  " 

Yanek  won  more  votes  than  Attorney  Finor  and  all 
the  other  eloquent  firebrands  put  together,  because  he 
was  from  America;  for  in  every  isba  he  found  those 
who  had  been  there  or  who  had  kinsmen  over  the  seas. 
What  a  bond  of  fellowship  that  was !  It  seemed  as  if  a 
new  world  order  could  be  created  out  of  the  experience 
of  humanity  in  the  New  World,  and  perhaps  it  will  serve 
that  purpose  when  the  day  dawns  which  will  make  a 
new  order  possible. 

"  You  talk  like  an  American/'  they  all  said,  and  by 
that  they  meant  that  he  did  not  lose  his  temper  when  he 
talked  about  the  Magyars,  that  he  had  tried  to  be  fair,  and 
how  could  he  help  that,  after  having  lived  in  America 
where  he  had  seen  only  the  best  of  the  New  World  ? 

Indeed  he  was  a  Slovak,  but  not  such  a  one  as  Dr. 
Finor,  or  those  patriots  who  gathered  back  of  Pan 
Vavra's  butcher  shop.  Something  in  his  love  was  dif 
ferent,  because  by  loving  America  he  had  stepped  over 
the  narrow  fringe  of  nationalism. 

After  all,  the  most  valuable  thing  that  America  gave 
him  was  the  sense  of  a  larger  communion  with  mankind. 
He  realized  this,  in  his  electioneering  tour.  He  could 
not  curse  the  Magyars  or  the  Germans  as  the  real  patriots 
did,  and  his  election  speeches  lacked  the  spice  of  hate. 
He  could  persuade,  but  the  cursing  he  had  to  leave  to 
others.  Sometimes,  especially  when  he  was  sharing  an 
isba  with  grown  ups  and  children  through  the  night,  or 
when  he  had  to  spoon  the  soup  out  of  a  common  bowl, 
he  realized  how  divided  his  life  was,  in  his  tastes,  his 


THE  GOVERNMENT  STRIKES  185 

loyalty,  even  in  his  love.  He  loved  Christina  as  he  loved 
America,  with  a  spiritual  passion,  quite  free  from  the 
taint  of  the  flesh.  His  love  for  Sonya  was  like  his  love 
for  his  native  land,  "  bone  of  his  bone  and  flesh  of  his 
flesh." 

He  had  spoken  but  little  to  Christina  since  the  school 
master's  funeral ;  to  try  to  comfort  her  would  have  been 
sacrilegious,  to  talk  of  commonplaces  would  have  been 
no  less  so.  She  took  no  interest  in  her  father's  candidacy, 
and  once  or  twice  when  he  consulted  her  she  gave  him 
an  evasive  answer. 

Sonya  was  sobered  by  the  schoolmaster's  death,  and 
pouted  because  the  approaching  election  put  her  in  a 
different  position,  socially.  Her  father  became  the  buga 
boo  of  Pan-Slavism  among  her  Magyar  associates,  and 
when  she  appeared  at  any  social  gathering,  there  was  a 
quick  shifting  in  the  conversation,  which  became  the 
more  apparent  the  more  skillfully  it  was  done.  National 
ism  divides  more  than  race  or  religion,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  knew  what  it  meant  to  be  regarded  as  something 
foreign,  something  she  ought  not  to  be;  yet  could  not 
help  being. 

She  was  born  of  Slovak  parents,  and  how  could  she 
help  that?  She  spoke  Magyar  like  a  native,  she  could 
out-dance  them  all  in  the  Czardas,  but  that  was  of  no 
avail  now.  Her  name  ended  in  sky,  and  that  separated 
her  from  the  sheep.  "  Very  well  then,"  she  said,  "  have 
it  your  way,  I  am  a  goat.  I  am  a  Slovak  till  the  elec 
tion  is  over;"  so  day  after  day  she  rode  on  horseback 
from  village  to  village  bearing  the  Slovak  colors,  talking 
to  the  peasants  by  the  wayside,  cuddling  their  children, 
going  after  the  richer  landowners  and  persuading  them 
that  it  was  their  duty  to  vote  for  her  father.  She  had 
an  exciting  race  one  day  with  the  young  Baron  who  was 
riding  by  her  side,  talking  sweet  nothings  to  her  and 


186      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

trying  to  persuade  her  that  she  was  jeopardizing  her 
social  future  by  her  public  activities  for  the  Slovak  cause. 
"  Of  course,  I  know  you  want  to  go  to  Budapest  to  live; 
very  well,  marry  me  and  you  shall  live  in  Budapest." 
"  Joan  of  Arc  was  not  married,"  she  replied,  with  a 
laugh,  "  and  I  am  going  to  save  Slovakland,  as  she  saved 
France,"  and  with  that  she  gave  her  horse  the  reins.  It 
leaped  forward,  and  a  merry  chase  it  was  as  far  as  the 
village  of  Szotina.  There  her  horse  passed  the  tollgate 
ahead  of  the  Baron,  and  the  stupid  tollkeeper  let  down  the 
bars  just  in  time  to  give  the  full  impact  to  his  galloping 
horse,  with  the  result  that  the  tollgate  was  in  splinters, 
and  from  the  hilltop  Sonya  waved  the  colors  of  Slovak- 
land  at  him  as  he  limped  after  his  maimed  horse.  When 
she  told  Yanek  of  the  incident,  she  said:  "Of  course,  I 
am  Joan  of  Arc  only  till  after  my  father  is  elected;  "  and 
she  looked  at  him  again  in  that  strangely  challenging  way, 
and  again  his  brown  eyes  grew  black  as  coals,  and  his 
hand  trembled  as  he  took  hers  to  kiss  it;  which  was  not 
just  what  Sonya  had  expected. 

The  Magyars  had  the  music  and  the  drink,  the  orators 
and  the  gendarmes  to  aid  them  in  winning  the  parlia 
mentary  seat  for  their  candidate.  The  Slovaks  had  only 
one  thing,  a  righteous  cause.  Had  they  been  left  alone 
and  the  sky  in  their  names  been  unchallenged ;  had  they 
been  permitted  to  speak  their  Slovak  dialect  without  its 
being  considered  a  crime,  and  had  the  names  of  their 
towns  not  been  Magyarized,  they  would  have  remained 
the  same  patient,  docile,  industrious  people  who  had 
always  paid  their  taxes  without  complaint,  and  who 
might  have  been  proud  to  be  part  of  a  nation  which 
sought  the  good  of  its  people,  regardless  of  their  race  or 
speech. 

As  it  was,  they  had  a  cause,  and  the  cause  was  made 
for  them  by  a  government  which  lacked  wisdom.  No 


THE  GOVERNMENT  STRIKES  187 

people  have  ever  been  assimilated  by  force,  and  when  the 
pressure  began,  the  peasants  said  to  each  other,  "  What  is 
this?  We  must  not  teach  the  Slovak  language  in  our 
schools  ?  Well,  language  must  be  something  worth  hav 
ing  if  they  want  to  take  it  away  from  us;  but  we  won't 
let  them." 

So  they  came  to  this  election  with  a  cause  to  champion. 
They  knew  that  their  way  would  be  obstructed;  in  fact, 
the  bridges  were  burned,  but  they  forded  the  river  and 
the  creeks  and  were  in  Hraszova  before  daybreak.  Long 
before  they  arrived,  however,  a  regiment  of  infantry  had 
marched  into  town,  had  encircled  the  square,  and  divided 
it  into  two  parts  by  a  wall  of  soldiers.  The  right  half 
of  the  square  was  for  all  those  who  were  to  vote  for  the 
government  candidate,  and  the  other  was  for  the  opposi 
tion.  It  so  happened  that  the  inn  and  the  town  pump 
were  on  the  side  used  for  the  government ;  the  other  side 
was  dry  and  was  meant  to  remain  so.  Before  the  vil 
lagers  entered  into  their  respective  sides,  they  were 
harangued  and  threatened  and  bribed,  and  quite  naturally 
the  right  side  grew  at  the  expense  of  the  left.  At  noon 
the  town's  people  of  Hraszova  came  to  the  square  and  the 
majority  entered  the  dry,  left  side,  carrying  liquid  and 
solid  refreshments  for  the  faithful. 

Emissaries  from  the  right  were  allowed  to  enter  the 
camp  of  the  opposition,  and  they  kidnapped  many  a  voter, 
not,  however,  without  fights  which  the  soldiers  tried  to 
quell,  thus  increasing  the  tense  feeling  which  made  the 
usually  quiet  market  square  resemble  a  battlefield.  On 
the  right  side  the  Gypsies  played  patriotic  airs;  while  on 
the  left,  the  peasants  tried  to  drown  them  with  Slovak 
songs. 

The  election  had  divided  households  and  even  churches, 
and  Father  Anton  Kalman  entered  the  Slovak  camp; 
while  the  curate,  Father  Imre  Baczko,  was  one  of  the  chief 


188      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

orators  for  the  government.  "  Pan-Slavism,"  he  shouted 
across  the  guarded  line,  so  that  his  senior  could  hear  it, 
"  is  anti-Christian,  and  every  Catholic  who  votes  for  Pan 
Yan  Szenitzky  not  only  votes  for  a  Protestant,  but  he 
votes  for  the  heathenish  Russian  faith;  for  the  Pan- 
Slavists  are  paid  emissaries  of  Russia/'  Pan-Slavism 
was  a  good  label  with  which  to  libel  a  cause.  It  is  an 
old  trick,  to  make  a  good  cause  odious.  Father  Anton 
Kalman  made  no  speeches.  He  waited  his  time  and 
voted,  and  would  have  gone  his  way,  but  for  the  fact  that 
no  one  was  permitted  to  leave  till  the  votes  were  counted. 

In  the  Redlich  household  there  was  also  division. 
Moritz  Redlich  being  a  manufacturer  and  landowner  had 
two  votes,  and  his  sons  besought  him  not  to  vote  for  the 
opposition;  the  government  had  to  be  supported.  Their 
father  replied  that  if  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  were  opposing 
the  Almighty,  he  would  vote  for  him,  not  to  say  anything 
of  his  opposing  the  Hungarian  Government  party,  of 
which  he  did  not  have  too  good  an  opinion  anyway, 
Moritz  Redlich's  example  acted  contagiously  on  a  num 
ber  of  the  Jews,  and  they  walked  into  the  left  half  of  the 
square,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  government  always 
counted  on  them.  "We  stand  between  you  and  the 
mob,  we  give  you  certain  privileges  and  you  have  to  sup 
port  us ;  "  and  they  usually  did. 

As  the  afternoon  was  passing  the  vote  stood  fairly 
even;  at  about  four  o'clock  a  belated  delegation  came 
from  the  mountain  district.  The  men  had  to  come  in 
afoot,  for  the  narrow  road  was  blocked  at  one  point  by 
a  small  landslide,  which  the  Divine  Providence  or  some 
other  power  had  arranged,  to  insure  Count  Arranyi's 
election.  When  the  peasants  came  marching  across  the 
market  place  the  command  was  given  by  the  district  judge 
not  to  let  them  enter  the  square,  or  at  least  to  detain  them 
till  the  closing  of  the  polls.  The  judge  should  have 


THE  GOVERNMENT  STRIKES  189 

known  better;  for  the  Kopanyitchary  are  born  fighters, 
and  when  they  were  told  that  they  could  not  enter,  they 
attempted  to  force  the  line.  Yanek  and  Dr.  Finor  tried 
to  dissuade  them,  but  they  faced  the  pointed  bayonets  as 
if  they  were  the  thorn  trees  which  had  no  terror  for  their 
tough  skins.  "  Let  us  through ! "  they  shouted  and 
hurled  themselves  against  the  line,  only  to  be  driven  back, 
again  and  again.  The  minutes  were  precious.  There 
was  anxious  consultation  between  the  leaders.  Father 
Anton  Kalman  was  seen  hurrying  toward  his  church, 
which  bounded  one  side  of  that  part  of  the  square  allotted 
to  the  opposition.  The  Kopanyitchary  retreated,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  were  seen  emerging  from  the  door  of  the 
church,  having  been  admitted  in  the  rear.  Seeing  this, 
Father  Baczko  rushed  across  the  dividing  line  toward 
the  church,  the  soldiers  following  him,  but  they  arrived 
just  as  the  Kopanyitchary  entered  the  booth  and  cast  their 
ballots. 

A  shout  of  victory  arose  from  the  Slovaks,  the  Gypsies 
were  leaving  the  inn,  for  it  would  be  unprofitable  to 
remain  with  the  losers.  Enthusiastic  partisans  lifted  Pan 
Yan  Szenitzky  on  their  shoulders  and  carried  him  to  his 
home,  the  crowd  surging  after  them.  Sonya  in  her  joy 
danced  about  like  the  Gypsy  she  was.  The  servants 
rushed  in  to  kiss  their  master's  hand,  and  he  scattered 
small  coin  to  the  paupers  and  beggars  who  had  gathered 
around  the  house. 

His  face  was  flushed,  the  blood  raced  in  triumph 
through  his  veins,  as  he  saw  himself  ascending  the 
speaker's  place  in  the  Parliament  and  heard  himself 
thundering  against  sugar  beets  and  emigration.  Just 
then  they  noticed  Yanek  running  breathlessly.  "  We 
have  lost !  "  he  shouted.  "  The  vote  of  the  Kopan 
yitchary  was  thrown  out!  We  have  lost!"  A  groan 
rose  from  the  crowd,  then  changed  into  an  angry  scream, 


190      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

and  they  saw  the  old  man,  the  pride  and  hope  of  Slovak- 
dom,  rise  and  lift  his  hand  as  if  to  restrain  them.  Then 
the  world  seemed  to  stop  moving;  for  his  hand  still 
raised,  he  fell  back,  unconscious. 

"  It  is  a  stroke,"  Dr.  Makutchky  said,  when  they 
had  undressed  him  and  put  him  to  bed ;  "  it  is  a  stroke, 
and  he  can  never  strike  back." 

"But  /  will!"  Sonya  almost  shrieked.  Then  she 
threw  herself  down  beside  her  father  and  cried  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN:  WHEN  THE  SAW  SINGS 

THE  Slovaks  lost  the  election ;  but  their  cause  gained 
a  new  impetus,  for  the  most  indifferent  felt  the 
hurt  of  it,  the  dull  eyed  and  visionless  saw  a  new  gleam, 
and  in  Pan  Vavra's  wine  shop,  over  sour  wine,  they 
pledged  their  life's  blood  to  a  redeemed  Slovakland. 
Dead  men  do  speak,  and  it  was  the  schoolmaster  who  in 
spired  them,  and  the  stricken  Pan  struck  back,  though  his 
body  was  paralyzed  and  his  tongue  was  dumb. 

Prime  Ministers  have  never  been  cooks,  else  they  would 
know  that  holding  the  lid  over  a  boiling  pot  does  not 
keep  it  from  boiling  over,  and  the  Captain  of  Gendarmes, 
the  sergeants,  corporals  and  armed  men  who  never  asked 
for  reasons,  continued  to  hold  down  the  lid;  while  the 
broth  of  their  own  brewing  was  boiling  and  bubbling, 
singing  a  dangerous  tune.  Instead  of  putting  out  the 
fire,  they  added  fuel  to  the  flame.  Funerals  and  wed 
dings,  baptisms  and  names'  day  festivities  were  watched 
for  signs  of  disloyalty,  and  the  innocent  joys  of  life  were 
made  sinister  by  spying  and  searchings,  by  warrants  and 
jailing. 

The  government  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  Yanek. 
The  easiest  thing  would  have  been  to  deport  him  to 
America;  but  he  was  not  a  citizen  of  the  United  States. 
When  he  heard  of  the  suggestion  which  was  made  by  the 
Judge,  to  send  him  back,  he  thought  that  after  all  it 
would  be  the  best  thing,  for  he  was  lost  in  the  current. 
His  chart  which  had  such  straight  lines  when  he  arrived 
at  home  was  full  of  crooked  byways,  and  his  compass 
acted  like  an  alarm  clock  going  off,  pointing  everywhere 
and  nowhere ;  until  between  the  "  lo  here  and  lo  there," 
he  knew  not  the  way. 

191 


192      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"  Chart  and  Compass  come  from  Thee/'  he  heard  him 
self  singing  in  the  college  chapel;  but  was  Jesus  a  pilot 
in  a  storm  which  swept  a  nation  ?  How  did  He  act  when 
His  country  was  held  in  such  a  thrall  as  this,  by  the 
Romans?  Did  He  lift  the  fallen  Maccabean  banner  and 
bid  men  fight  for  the  liberation  of  their  country?  Or, 
knowing  that  a  worse  foe  than  the  Romans  held  them,  did 
he  not  hurl  his  condemnation  against  the  Pharisees,  and 
fight  them  with  the  only  weapon  which  could  overcome 
them? 

"  The  truth  shall  make  you  free."  Of  course  the 
Starychek  and  his  followers,  and  the  dear  Babushka  loved 
when  everybody  hated,  and  "  blessed  those  who  cursed 
them";  they  knew  the  chart,  and  their  compass  was 
steadily  pointing  Christward.  What  did  they  care  who 
ruled  in  Slovakland,  when  Jesus  was  so  soon  to  return 
to  earth  in  glory? 

But  they  were  reading  their  chart  literally,  and  he  had 
been  taught  to  take  into  account  historic  currents  and  the 
beliefs  of  the  times.  He  sometimes  feared  that  he  had 
neither  chart  nor  compass;  but  merely  a  beautiful  ideal 
for  which  men  should  strive,  though  hopeless  of  attain 
ing  it. 

Nevertheless,  the  "  Salvesh  "  loved  to  hear  him  preach, 
perhaps  because  his  message  was  tender  and  sweet,  and 
he  used  many  pretty  illustrations,  garnered  without  labor 
from  the  sermons  of  American  evangelists,  whose 
thoughts  he  repeated  in  a  more  or  less  conscious  plagiar 
ism,  of  which  they  themselves  were  perhaps  not  guiltless. 
In  fact  the  "  Salvesh "  were  the  only  congregation  he 
had,  and  when  his  permanent  appointment  as  a  mission 
ary  came  from  the  Board,  and  with  it  numerous  lean  and 
empty  blanks,  hungry  for  statistics,  he  hesitated  in  accept 
ing  it,  and  returned  the  check  for  his  first  quarter's  salary. 
He  vibrated  unhappily  between  Vavra's  wine  shop  and 


WHEN  THE  SAW  SINGS  193 

the  "  Salvesh"  meetings,  between  patriotism  and  religion, 
and  between  his  adoration  of  Christina  and  his  passion 
for  Sonya. 

If  the  compass  ever  became  steady  it  pointed  west 
ward,  and  there  arose  a  longing  in  his  heart  to  go  back 
to  the  United  States;  for  while  he  was  less  than  "a 
million  leagues  "  away  from  his  people,  he  was  still  far 
enough  away  not  to  feel  at  home  in  the  place  where  he 
was  born.  A  man's  true  Fatherland,  after  all,  is  where 
his  spirit  had  its  new  birth,  and  he  felt  the  pull  of  it 
tugging  at  his  heart.  The  motives  for  his  wishing  to  go 
back  were  much  more  mixed  than  he  was  willing  to 
admit,  but  America's  vast  spaces  and  hospitable  ways, 
her  broad  sympathies,  the  freedom  of  being  just  what  one 
was,  the  generous  friends  who  smoothed  his  way  so  un 
selfishly,  were  powerful  factors  which  lured  him  back. 
Then,  too,  he  missed  access  to  good  books  and  fine  music 
which  the  college  and  the  seminary  had  afforded  him,  and 
although  he  blushed  to  own  it,  even  to  himself,  he  longed 
for  the  easy  chairs  and  porcelain  bathtubs,  and  all  those 
other  comforts  which  were  lacking  in  this  small  and  pov 
erty  stricken  corner  of  the  world. 

Thus  the  winter  passed,  and  on  the  evening  of  a  reluc 
tant  spring  day  he  was  sitting  with  his  mother  after  his 
father  had  gone  to  the  inn.  He  was  not  sorry  to  see  him 
go,  for  he  had  grown  very  petulant,  and  very  critical  of 
his  son.  There  were  many  unholy  quarrels  between  them, 
in  which  Yanek  was  not  altogether  blameless,  and  they 
were  drifting  farther  and  farther  apart. 

Yanek  was  reading  to  his  mother  one  of  Christina's 
simple  stories.  " Mamushka,  do  you  like  this  story?" 
he  asked,  after  he  had  finished  the  little  volume.  "  Cer 
tainly  I  like  it,"  she  said,  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes; 
"  it  is  so  real. 

"  Mlada  Panka  Christina's  books  are  like  our  isba.    A 


194      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

man  comes  to  see  us  and  he  opens  the  door,  and  there  he 
sees  us  just  as  we  are;  the  bake  oven  and  the  dishes  and 
the  bed ;  and  he  knows  right  away  whether  we  are  thrifty 
or  shiftless  or  whether  we  love  the  Lord  or  not. 

"  The  other  books  you  have  been  reading  to  me  are  like 
going  to  the  Pan's  house.  You  have  to  ring  the  door 
bell,  and  the  maid  comes  and  says :  '  Who  are  you? '  and 
you  tell  her;  '  and  whom  do  you  want  to  see?  '  And  then 
you  tell  her  that  too.  Then  she  lets  you  stand  for  a  long 
time  in  the  hall  and  then  she  comes  and  tells  you  that  the 
Pan  will  see  you.  Then  you  step  into  another  room,  and 
you  have  to  wait,  and  you  look  at  the  fine  furniture  and 
the  books  and  the  pictures,  and  finally  the  Pan  comes,  and 
he  says :  '  Oh  yes,  I  think  I  can  tell  you  all  about  it,  come 
with  me  into  the  parlor.'  Then  he  begins  to  talk  to  you, 
and  even  then  you  don't  know  just  what  kind  of  man  the 
Pan  is,  and  only  when  you  go  out  and  shut  the  door  you 
say  to  yourself :  '  Well,  I  think  the  Pan  is  a  pretty  nice 
man/  That's  the  way  it  is  with  your  fine  books;  but  in 
Christina's  stories,  on  the  first  page,  you  say,  *  I  have 
seen  that  man  before,  and  I  like  him/  or  you  say,  '  What 
a  terrible  creature  he  is ! ' 

Wouldn't  his  professor  of  literature  delight  in  that 
criticism,  and  could  he  have  done  any  better?  Yanek 
thought,  caressing  his  mother  and  calling  her  pet  names. 

The  critics  in  Budapest  had  said  practically  the  same 
thing  about  Christina's  stories,  only  in  a  less  simple  way. 
They  objected  to  them  because  they  were  too  religious, 
and  because  all  her  drunkards  and  wife-beaters  and  athe 
ists  were  converted.  The  publishers  refused  to  print 
them;  but  a  Tract  Society  took  them,  and  colporteurs 
and  missionaries  carried  them  and  their  message  of  eter 
nal  faith  in  the  power  of  God  and  the  redeemableness  of 
man,  to  the  humblest  isba. 

"  Read  me  another  story,"  Elzabetha  begged,  but  he 


WHEN  THE  SAW  SINGS  195 

had  not  gone  very  far  when  he  stopped ;  for  it  was  about 
a  boy  who  had  gone  to  America,  and  the  lure  of  the  New 
World,  described  by  her,  was  as  if  written  out  of  his  own 
experience.  "  Mamushka,"  he  said,  "  what  would  you 
say  if  I  went  back  to  America  ?  " 

"  May  Heaven  forbid !  "  she  replied,  rising  from  her 
chair.  Then  she  sank  slowly  back,  and  began  to  cry,  and 
told  him  how  she  had  dreamed  about  his  coming  back,  and 
how  her  old  age  became  golden  with  the  hope  of  their 
living  together  till  she  went  to  her  grave;  but  that  she 
thought  it  might  after  all  be  better  for  him  to  go  back. 
He  knew  it  would  be  best,  but  he  did  not  want  her  to  say 
it,  and  it  hurt  him. 

"  Have  you  talked  it  over  with  the  Mlada  Panka 
Christina?  "  she  asked,  hoping  that  he  would  say  he  had 
not;  for  she  wanted  to  be  first  in  the  confidence  of  her 
son.  He  told  her  that  she  was  the  first  person  to  whom 
he  had  said  anything  about  it,  though  the  thought  had 
been  long  in  his  heart;  but  he  would  go  over  and  see 
Christina  at  once. 

It  seemed  but  yesterday  since  he  had  gone  to  her  on  the 
same  kind  of  errand,  only  then  he  was  fifteen  and  wore  a 
sheepskin  coat.  Marisha  had  come  to  the  door  at  his 
knock  and  told  him  that  he  ought  to  know  better  than 
to  disturb  his  betters  at  that  time  of  night,  and  she  made 
him  scrape  his  boots  when  he  had  already  scraped  them 
as  hard  as  his  impatience  to  see  Christina  permitted.  He 
stood  first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other  and  he  stam 
mered  when  he  asked  her  whether  she  would  be  sorry  to 
see  him  go  to  America. 

Sorry,  of  course  she  would  be  sorry  to  see  him  go; 
and  then  his  young  heart  nearly  melted  within  him,  and 
she  cried,  and  he  held  back  his  tears  because  he  had  no 
handkerchief,  and  when  the  tears  came  in  spite  of  him, 
she  lent  him  hers.  A  dainty,  sweet  smelling  handkerchief 


196      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

it  was,  full  of  tiny  holes  along  the  edges,  and  he  twisted 
it  around  his  fingers  and  the  tears  ran  down  unchecked. 

That  peasant  boy  with  his  first,  warm,  tender  love  was 
very  different  from  the  young  man  who  went  to  her  this 
evening,  confused  and  perplexed.  He  was  ushered  into 
her  presence  by  the  same  Marisha  who  would  not  have 
dared  tell  him  to  scrape  his  boots,  though  they  had  needed 
it.  He  had  put  on  his  best  American  clothes,  and  was  as 
different  from  the  little  Yanushek  of  fifteen  years  ago  as 
this  sedate  looking  young  woman,  bending  over  her  desk 
and  scarcely  looking  up  when  he  entered,  was,  from  the 
little  Christina  who  cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break 
when  she  saw  him  weeping,  and  had  untwisted  her  hand 
kerchief  from  his  fingers,  that  she  might  wipe  her  tears. 

When  Yanek  was  announced,  Christina  was  writing. 
Yanek  thought  her  looking  more  than  ever  like  the  Mater 
Dolorosa.  Her  fair  hair,  and  the  pallor  of  her  sad  face 
were  accentuated  by  contrast  with  the  mourning  which 
she  wore  for  the  schoolmaster.  She  withdrew  herself 
with  difficulty  from  the  world  in  which  she  felt  like  a 
God;  creating,  destroying  and  saving — a  joy  given  only 
to  the  real  artist.  When  Yanek  told  her  of  his  desire  to 
go  back  to  America  and  asked  her  advice,  her  answer  was 
a  question. 

"  Have  you  asked  Sonya?  "  She  was  sorry  after  she 
had  spoken,  for  there  was  a  trace  of  bitterness  in  the 
words. 

:<  You  are  hurting  your  eyes,"  he  remarked  as  he  saw 
her  bending  over  her  manuscript.  That  was  not  what  he 
meant  to  say,  and  he  was  not  thinking  of  her  eyes  when 
he  said  it. 

"  When  you  come  back  again  from  America  I  shall  be 
wearing  thick  spectacles,"  she  said  with  a  smile,  though 
there  was  no  smile  in  her  heart ;  "  and  you  will  call  me 
Babushka/'  and  she  tried  to  take  her  thoughts  away  from 


WHEN  THE  SAW  SINGS  197 

Yanek  and  his  destiny,  back  to  the  story  she  was  writing, 
about  a  lonely  old  Jew,  whom  she  had  named  Simon 
Klempner,  who  was  being  cared  for  by  a  devout  Christian 
lad  who  came,  no  one  knew  just  from  where.  He  was 
regarded  as  not  having  all  his  wits,  because  he  never 
drank  Palenka,  nor  swore,  and  always  turned  the  smitten 
cheek.  The  old  Jew  thought  that  it  was  an  angel  who 
made  his  fire  for  him  in  the  cold,  winter  mornings,  and 
sawed  the  wood  for  him.  Who  else  but  an  angel  would 
doit? 

Seeing  her  eyes  on  her  manuscript,  "  Do  your  stories 
always  end  as  you  want  them  to  ?  "  he  asked,  still  think 
ing  of  other  things. 

"Yes,"  she  replied  very  deliberately.  "It  is  in  the 
middle  that  I  have  the  greatest  difficulty.  There,  my 
characters  go  their  own  way,  and  no  matter  how  hard  I 
try,  they  do  what  they  want.  Isn't  it  that  way  in  life/' 
she  added ;  "  after  all,  the  story  ends  as  God  wills." 

"  How  do  we  know  when  we  are  doing  God's  will  or 
our  own?  "  he  asked.  She  urged  him  to  sit  down,  for  she 
wanted  to  read  him  something  she  had  written  which 
might  be  an  answer  to  his  question.  It  seemed  strange, 
she  said,  that  he  should  have  asked  her  that  question,  just 
when  she  was  writing  that  story,  and  she  read :  "  Simon, 
the  youth  said  to  the  old  Jew,  who  looked  at  him  in 
astonishment,  seeing  him  sawing  a  heavy  log  in  his  wood 
shed;  for  it  was,  after  all,  not  an  angel  who  came  from 
Heaven,  but  a  goy,  a  common  goy.  Simon,  I  am  doing 
God's  will." 

"  How  do  you  know  you  are  doing  God's  will  ?  "  the 
Jew  asked,  in  a  singsong  way,  as  if  he  were  asking  a 
learned  Rabbi  to  solve  one  of  the  pious  riddles  of  the 
law. 

"  How  does  your  horse  know  when  it  does  your  will  ? 
You  pull  it  hit,  and  then  ho !,  and  when  the  horse  doesn't 


198      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

feel  you  pulling  it,  when  the  bit  doesn't  hurt,  then  it  is 
going  just  where  you  want  it  to  go."  The  Jew  smacked 
his  lips  over  this  wise  saying,  and  the  youth  continued. 

"  Do  you  hear  the  saw  ?  It  is  singing.  This  morning 
I  was  in  a  hurry  and  I  began  to  push  the  saw  without 
thinking.  After  a  while  the  pulling  became  harder  and 
harder,  and  the  saw  kept  saying :  *  It  is  hard  work,  it  is 
hard  work,  I  can't  go  further.'  Then  I  pulled  it  out  and 
I  saw  that  I  had  started  it  crooked.  I  put  my  thumb  on 
the  log  for  a  mark,  and  I  laid  the  saw  straight  up  against 
it.  I  didn't  push  the  saw  hard,  I  just  said  to  myself, 
'  keep  on  straight,  just  perfectly  straight,'  and  very  soon 
the  saw  began  to  sing,  for  it  was  sawing  straight.  That's 
the  way  you  know  when  you  are  doing  God's  will,  when 
the  bit  doesn't  hurt,  and  when  your  heart  sings ;  and  my 
heart  has  been  singing  within  me  every  time  I  did  this 
little  chore  for  you/' 

"  Does  your  heart  sing,  Yanek?  "  Christina  asked,  put 
ting  the  pages  back  on  her  desk.  He  did  not  know  what 
to  answer;  he  felt  the  reins  pulling  first  hit,  and  then  ho, 
as  if  the  driver  himself  did  not  know  just  where  he 
wanted  his  horse  to  go.  Thanking  Christina  he  left  her 
to  see  the  Pan,  and  Sonya,  who  was  reading  to  him. 
When  the  old  man  saw  Yanek  enter  he  scowled  and 
growled  as  if  he  meant  to  say:  "  You  young  jackanapes, 
why  under  Heaven  didn't  you  stay  over  in  America? 
Then  none  of  this  trouble  would  have  come  upon  me." 

Sonya  had  no  such  thoughts.  There  was  warm  wel 
come  in  her  outstretched  hands,  which  he  kissed  fer 
vently,  more  so  than  necessary,  the  old  man  was  saying 
to  himself,  and  mentally  he  was  striking  half  a  dozen 
matches  on  his  leather  breeches.  The  two  young  people 
had  gone  to  the  side  of  the  room  where  he  could  not  see 
them.  His  eyes  fell  on  his  Dresdenska,  and  as  he  real 
ized  that  he  could  never  light  it  again  he  kept  on  growl- 


WHEN  THE  SAW  SINGS  199 

ing,  saying  to  himself :  "  Why  does  an  old,  half  alive 
carcass  like  mine  cumber  the  ground  ? "  And  his  eyes 
still  lingered  on  his  beloved  Dresdenska.  Then  he 
stopped  growling,  for  he  heard  Yanek  say :  "  Sonya,  what 
would  you  say  if  I  were  going  back  to  America?  "  He 
didn't  hear  her  reply,  for  she  did  not  answer  him  in 
words,  but  Yanek  knew  very  well  what  she  meant  to  say. 
The  silence  continued  so  long  that  the  Pan  began  to 
growl  again,  and  Yanek  bade  him  good  night. 

When  he  reached  home  his  father  was  asleep,  but  his 
mother  was  waiting  for  him  as  usual.  He  saw  the  ques 
tion  in  her  eyes,  and  said  joyfully,  "  Mamushka,  I  am 
not  going  back  to  America  yet,  and  when  I  go  I  shall 
not  go  alone."  Then  his  mother  fell  upon  his  neck  cry 
ing  :  "  As  God  wills,  my  golden  boy,  as  God  wills !  " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY:  THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE 

EVERY  day  except  Saturdays  and  Sundays,  rain  or 
shine,  Sanctus  and  Spiritus  walked  to  the  Pan's 
house.  There  they  stayed  till  Christina  came  in  with 
Marisha,  bringing  them  their  galoshes.  Marisha  helped 
them  on  with  them,  and  then  the  two  old  men  walked 
home  again.  This  afternoon,  as  every  other,  the  Pan 
came  in  leaning  on  his  two  daughters,  who  seated  him  in 
the  stuffed  chair  between  his  cronies.  His  pipe  was 
out  of  commission  and  hung  over  his  desk,  with  other 
momentos  of  happier  days,  a  sad  reminder  of  pleasure  no 
more  to  be  tasted. 

As  always,  the  talk  was  of  the  Bashanyitza  and  the 
pheasants,  the  rabbits  and  the  rheumatism;  and  they 
agreed  upon  everything,^  for  with  them  it  took  three  to 
make  a  quarrel,  and  the  Pan's  quarreling  days  were 
over.  Only  one  side  of  his  face  could  smile,  and  his 
tongue  was  completely  paralyzed.  Half  his  body  was 
dead  though  his  mind  was  alive.  If  only  he  could  have 
spoken !  But  a  thick  gurgling  sound  when  he  was  angry, 
and  a  smile  of  pleasure  or  approval,  were  his  only  means 
of  expression. 

"  It  is  no  fun,  getting  old/'  Moritz  Redlich  said  with 
a  sigh,  thinking  himself  back  to  the  time  when  they  were 
young  boys  and  waded  together  in  the  creek  and  cut 
willows  for  whistles. 

'  Youth  is  the  time,"  Father  Anton  said  meditatively, 
looking  at  the  pathetic  figure  of  their  crony;  and  then 
furtively  gazing  at  the  picture  of  Madam  Szenitzky, 
he  thought  of  the  days  when  a  young  girl's  face  thrilled 
him.  Mentally  he  crossed  himself  and  murmured, 

200 


THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE  201 

"Holy  Mary,  intercede  for  me!"  He  could  smell  vio 
lets,  for  they  had  gathered  violets  together,  he  and  she, 
whose  picture  hung  on  the  wall,  and  every  time  he  saw 
it  he  smelled  violets.  She  found  ten  to  his  one,  for  he 
was  not  thinking  of  flowers,  but  of  her  delicate  hands. 
"O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  a  poor  sinner!"  And  when 
she  put  them  into  his  buttonhole  he  trembled  from  head 
to  foot.  Then  he  went  where  there  was  incense  but  no 
violets,  and  he  had  been  an  old  man  ever  since;  an  old 
man  with  just  a  crabbed  old  housekeeper  to  take  care  of 
him,  and,  since  his  niece,  the  only  young  part  of  him, 
had  gone  away  to  the  convent  to  school,  he  had  nothing 
but  a  snuff  tobacco  box  to  comfort  him,  and  a  curate! 
"  May  the  devil  take  the  curate !  " 

"  They  are  talking  about  youth,  those  two  old  rascals," 
the  Pan  was  saying  to  himself.  "  What  do  they  know 
about  youth?  "  And  he  thought  of  the  cherry  lips  from 
which  he  had  snatched  kisses,  and  the  wooing  of  many 
maidens  and  then  a  bit  of  clear,  pure  Heaven.  Yes,  he 
had  been  an  old  man  for  a  long  time,  with  two  daughters 
on  his  hands,  and  the  coming  of  the  Sugar  Trust  and 
emigration  to  worry  him.  "  But  oh,  you  fortunate  ones! 
You  have  your  old  carcasses  intact,  while  half  of  me  is 
watching  the  other  half  die.  What  do  you  know  about 
old  age?  You  have  your  limbs  and  your  tongues,  and 
I  am  like  a  bass  viol  without  strings !  "  But  he  could 
still  growl,  and  that  was  the  way  he  quarreled  with 
them. 

Father  Kalman  was  growing  forgetful.  He  did  not 
know  in  which  pocket  he  had  the  snuff  tobacco  box  with 
the  Greek  goddess,  and  he  handed  Moritz  the  one  with 
the  bleeding  heart  of  the  Christ.  Then  he  apologized  pro 
fusely. 

"  Never  mind,  Anton,"  his  friend  replied,  taking  a 
bigger  dose  than  usual;  "  it  is  all  right,"  and  he  sneezed 


202      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

so  hard  that  the  tears  came  into  his  eyes.  However,  the 
tears  came  from  the  bleeding  heart  more  than  from  the 
snuff. 

'  The  trouble  with  your  Jesus,"  he  said,  looking  at  the 
picture  of  the  calm,  sad  man,  "  is  that  He  did  not  grow 
old.  What  did  He  know  about  shrinking  day  after  day 
into  a  bundle  of  skin  and  bones,  with  His  memory  failing, 
and  His  heart  getting  heavier  and  heavier?  God  the 
Father  is  an  Old  Man  and  He  has  children.  He  under 
stands  us  better/' 

Father  Kalman  put  the  snuff  box  into  his  pocket,  mak 
ing  a  mental  note  that  it  was  the  right  side  into  which 
he  put  it;  for  he  was  vexed  with  himself  for  having  made 
the  mistake.  He  rarely  discussed  religion  with  his  friend, 
but  he  could  not  let  his  Jesus  suffer  in  comparison  with 
God  the  Father,  and  he  told  the  Jew  how  Jesus  loved  little 
children  and  took  them  into  His  arms  to  bless  them. 

'  Yes,  yes,  I  know  that's  in  your  Bible  and  it  is  very 
pretty,  but  they  were  little  children.  It  is  no  trick  to  love 
little  children.  I  wouldn't  think  much  of  any  man  who 
did  not  love  little  children.  But,  Anton,  if  they  had  been 
His  children,  and  had  grown  old  enough  to  steal  from 
Him,  and  lie  to  Him  and  come  home  vile  from  the  touch 
of  harlots,  would  He  still  have  blessed  them?"  Then 
Father  Kalman  told  him  the  story  of  the  prodigal  son  to 
show  how  He  felt  toward  the  wayward. 

"  Of  course,  Anton,  you  know  just  how  Jesus  felt,  for 
you  two  are  in  the  same  boat,  but  neither  of  you  knows 
anything  about  it.  All  the  children  of  Hraszova  are 
yours.  They  call  you  Father,  and  they  come  to  your  con 
fessional  and  tell  you,  '  I  have  lied,  Father  Anton,  I  have 
stolen,  I  have  walked  with  wicked  women,'  and  you  say 
to  them,  '  In  the  name  of  the  Father  and  the  Son  and  the 
Holy  Ghost  your  sins  are  forgiven.'  But  my  own  boys 
don't  come  confessing.  I  catch  them  stealing  and  lying 


THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE  203 

and  doing  worse  things,  and  then  I  smite  my  own  breast 
and  I  cry  out  to  God  to  forgive  me,  for  I  have  sinned. 
That  is  what  hurts,  and  of  that,  neither  you  nor  your 
Jesus  knows  anything." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Moritz,"  Father  Anton  replied 
with  deep  grief  in  his  voice.  "  I  suffer  in  the  same  way. 
I  smite  my  breast  and  cry  out  mea  culpa,  and  when  I 
pray  that  God  may  forgive  their  sins,  I  am  praying  for 
myself  as  well  as  for  them,  for  they  are  a  part  of  me, 
if  not  of  my  body  yet  of  my  heart." 

"  Yes,  it  may  be  so.  I  think  I  understand,  for  the 
Jew  has  always  suffered  for  the  sins  of  others ;  but  there 
is  a  sweetness  in  that  kind  of  suffering,  a  long,  lasting 
sweetness ;  it  is  different." 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  was  growing  restless;  there  they 
were,  his  cronies,  having  a  start  for  a  good  quarrel  and 
he  could  not  have  a  share  in  it.  "  Suffering,  what  do 
they  know  about  suffering  ?  As  long  as  you  have  a  safety 
valve  and  can  talk  about  your  pain,  and  there  is  some  one 
to  listen  to  you,  it  is  all  right,"  he  was  saying  to  them, 
though  they  heard  only  a  loud,  long  growl.  "  Here  I  am, 
my  thoughts  working  in  me  like  gas  in  a  barrel,  all  bunged 
and  sealed,  and  all  you  can  hear  is  my  growling."  He 
growled  so  loud,  that  Christina  heard  him  in  the  adjoin 
ing  room,  so  she  came  in  with  Marisha  who  carried  the 
galoshes,  a  gentle  reminder  that  it  was  time  for  them 
to  go. 

Father  Anton  rose  slowly,  a  sharp  pain  shot  up  his 
back,  and  he  straightened  himself  with  a  jerk.  "  You  old 
rascal,  you  can  smile  at  my  rheumatism !  Well,  I  am  glad 
something  amuses  you,"  he  said  to  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky, 
in  mock  anger. 

"  Moritz  is  getting  more  hunchbacked  every  day,"  the 
Pan  said  to  himself,  watching  how  the  old  man,  when  he 
rose  from  the  chair,  was  not  much  taller  than  when  he 


204      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

was  sitting.  "  I  guess  he  has  a  heavy  enough  pack  to 
carry." 

Indeed  his  pack  was  becoming  heavier  every  day.  His 
daughter  had  been  ill  and  in  bed,  ever  since  the  school 
master  died.  Dr.  Lonyai  said  it  was  only  a  cold,  but  as 
she  grew  worse  and  worse,  her  father  sent  for  Dr. 
Makutchky.  He  shook  his  head,  and  when  Dr.  Makutchky 
shook  his  head  every  one  knew  that  the  matter  was  seri 
ous.  He  threw  the  medicine  out  of  the  window,  which 
he  had  opened  wide,  and  began  fighting  incipient  tuber 
culosis. 

The  two  friends  missed  the  music  of  the  leather 
breeches  as  they  walked  home  together,  and  the  people 
they  met  on  the  streets  did  not  say  any  more,  with  a 
sort  of  good  natured  smile,  "  There  go  Sanctus  Spiritus 
and  Company,"  but :  "  Why,  under  the  sun,  does  Father 
Kalman  walk  with  that  old  Jew,  the  Christ  killer?  "  He 
felt  that  nr?re  than  any  of  his  sorrows.  Ever  since 
Susanka's  death  they  hated  him  and  he  knew  it,  and 
shrank  from  their  angry  looks.  Even  the  Jews,  many  of 
them,  did  not  bow  to  him  and  say  to  each  other,  "  There 
goes  our  good  old  Moritz." 

"Who  knows  what  they  are  saying?"  Sensitive  as 
he  was,  he  imagined  worse  things  than  they  did  say. 

"  Anton,  I  can't  bear  this  much  longer !  My  troubles 
rush  to  my  head  and  beat  against  my  brain  and  tell  me 
to  end  it  all,  and  I  choke  till  I  can  feel  my  breath  leaving 
my  body." 

"Holy  Mary!  Jesus!  and  Joseph!"  the  Father  mur 
mured,  when  he  should  have  said :  "  God  of  Abraham, 
Isaac  and  Jacob !  "  The  two  walked  up  and  down  the 
slushy  street  comforting  one  another,  for  Father  Anton's 
troubles  were  increasing.  He  had  received  a  letter  from 
his  bishop,  inclosing  a  complaint  from  the  Minister  of 
Worship,  censuring  him  for  taking  active  part  against 


THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE  205 

the  government  at  the  election,  and  who  knew  where  that 
might  lead?  And  then  Kelena,  his  darling  Helena, 
wanted  to  come  home  to  her  uncle  and  there  was  no  home 

to  come  to.  "  The  curate,  the  curate,  may  the  devil 

Oh  Lord!  forgive  me,"  he  murmured.  The  watchman 
was  calling  the  hour  of  eight  when  Father  Kalman  re 
membered  that  he  would  be  scolded  by  his  housekeeper 
for  letting  his  supper  grow  cold,  and  all  for  talking  to 
an  old  Jew. 

When  Moritz  Redlich  reached  home  he  found  the 
Fraulein  and  the  Herr  Ritter  in  the  parlor.  It  was  good 
of  them  to  come  to  sing  to  Sophie,  but  he  hated  the  very 
sight  of  them  and  hardly  spoke  as  he  passed  into  Sophie's 
bedroom. 

This  was  his  evening's  diversion,  sitting  beside  his 
daughter's  bed  and  talking  to  her.  She  was  his  child, 
the  child  of  his  heart;  she  was  so  much  like  Gittele  that 
even  the  agony  of  seeing  her  suffer  had  the  consolation 
of  his  seeming  to  be  again  with  his  wife. 

"  Daddykin,  how  is  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky,  and  tell  me, 
what  did  Sonya  wear,  and  do  you  think  she  will  marry 
Yanek  ?  "  These  were  her  usual  questions.  To-night 
she  startled  him  by  a  new  one.  "  Daddykin,  what 
will  happen  to  you  when  I  die  ?  " 

''  You  mustn't  talk  that  way,  silly  girl ;  you  will  get 
well  and  be  married,  for  otherwise  what  would  happen 
to  the  fine  linen  which  your  dear  mother  began  saving 
for  you  ?  Look !  "  and  he  drew  the  dower  chest  from 
the  corner,  and  took  out  the  embroidered  linen  sheets  and 
pillow  cases  and  the  dozens  of  damask  towels  and  nap 
kins.  "  Not  even  a  princess  has  finer  linen !  "  And  he 
spread  it  out,  all  over  her  bed,  then  folded  the  things 
again,  so  careful  to  leave  them  in  the  original 
creases. 

Sophie  watched  him  with  a  faraway  look,  and  then 


206      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

said :  "  Father  dear,  tell  me,  where  do  the  Jews  go  when 
they  die?" 

"  Ah,"  he  said  impatiently,  "  that  is  in  God's  hands. 
Why  don't  you  ask  where  do  the  Jewish  brides  go  on 
their  honeymoon  ?  You  will  go  to  Vienna  and  live  at  the 
Hotel  Royal  and  you  will  go  with  your  husband  to  the 
opera  and  then  you  will  go  shopping  on  the  Kacrtner 
Strasse.  Silly  girl,  you  mustn't  talk  that  way.  Look 
at  me.  I  have  been  coughing  for  forty  years  and  here 
I  am  yet,  and  I  will  live  to  see  your  children  playing  in 
your  home.  The  first  one  will  be  a  girl  and  you  will 
name  her  Gittele  after  your  dear  mother,  and  the  next 
one  will  be  a  boy  and  you  will  name  him  for  my  father, 
and  the  third  one  you  can  name  after  me,  for  then  I 
shall  be  gone." 

"  Do  you  know,  father,  whom  I  should  like  to  marry  ?  " 
she  asked  wistfully.  "  I  know  you  won't  like  it.  I  should 
like  to  marry  Yanek.  No,  no,  fatherkin,  don't  get  ex 
cited.  I  know  I  can't.  He  wouldn't  marry  a  Jewess, 
but  ever  since  we  were  children  together  I  have  loved 
him." 

"  A  nice  minister's  wife  you  would  make!  "  her  father 
said  laughing.  "  A  Jewish  girl  a  minister's  wife,  who 
ever  heard  of  it?  " 

"  Father  dear,"  and  she  took  hold  of  his  hand  and  he 
felt  her  trembling  all  over,  "  promise  me  that  if  I  do  get 
well,  you  won't  make  me  marry  Dr.  Lonyai." 

"  Not  as  long  as  I  am  alive,"  he  said  and  cuddled  her 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  her.  Then  he  said  to  himself : 
"Yes,  it  hurts,  this  thing  of  being  a  father,  and  yet  I 
wouldn't  be  such  a  father  as  Anton,  who  has  no  children 
of  his  own."  He  paced  up  and  down  the  room  looking 
at  his  child,  his  sick  child,  a  part  of  himself,  the  best  part 
of  him  and  of  Gittele. 

"  Do  you  know  why  the  Fraulein  comes  here  every 


THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE  207 

evening?  "  she  asked  him  just  as  he  had  steadied  his  heart 
with  the  joy  of  having  his  child.  "  I  suppose  she  comes 
to  sing  to  you." 

"  No,  no,  fatherkin,  you  are  mistaken.  She  comes  here 
because  she  likes  to  be  with  the  Herr  Ritter.  I  have 
watched  them  when  they  thought  my  eyes  were  closed, 
and  I  saw  them  kissing  each  other." 

"  Ah  yes,  the  Herr  Ritter !  "  He  had  almost  forgotten 
that  the  Herr  Ritter  and  the  Fraulein  were  in  the  next 
room. 

"  The  Herr  Ritter/'  he  repeated.  He  was  beginning  to 
cough  again,  for  he  was  thinking  not  only  of  his  wife 
who  was  so  little  his  that  he  had  ceased  to  care  about 
Herr  Ritter's  devotion  to  her;  he  was  thinking  of  the 
brewery  and  the  stock  company  and  the  worried  looks  of 
his  son,  and  his  evasive  answers  when  he  asked  him  how 
business  was  going.  He  still  went  to  the  distillery  every 
morning,  but  it  was  like  visiting  his  own  grave.  There 
was  nothing  left  of  the  old,  peaceful  place.  Workmen 
were  rushing  hither  and  thither,  and  barrels  were  being 
piled  mountain  high,  as  if  all  the  beer  of  Hungary  was 
to  be  brewed  there.  The  new  granaries  were  overflowing 
from  barley,  and  carloads  of  hops  came  from  Bohemia. 
Wagons  were  being  made  and  painted  red,  white  and 
green,  and  huge  presses  and  copper  vats  were  installed. 
The  worst  of  it  was,  that  the  people  came  from  all 
around  and  insisted  upon  investing  their  savings  in  stock. 
The  curling  smoke  which  rose  from  the  tall  chimneys 
drew  the  money  out  of  their  pockets,  and  his  sons  took 
it  and  did  not  look  far  into  the  future. 

The  Herr  Ritter  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  for  when 
he  asked  his  sons  just  why  this  was  so  or  that  was  not  so, 
the  invariable  reply  was :  "  What  do  you  understand  of 
big  business?  The  times  are  changing.  Herr  Ritter 
knows  better  than  you  do."  The  Herr  Ritter  owned 


208      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

everything,  his  wife,  his  sons  and  the  brewery;  but  who 
owned  his  good  name,  the  name  of  Moritz  Redlich? 

That  very  day,  Mina  Barkeles,  the  glazier's  widow, 
came  and  brought  two  hundred  and  fifty  crowns  and 
insisted  upon  buying  stock.  "  Herr  Redlich,"  she  said, 
weeping  as  she  held  out  the  money,  "  it  is  all  I  have  left. 
Thirty  years  my  sainted  husband  went  from  village  to 
village  with  his  box  of  glass.  The  rheumatism  he  had, 
and  a  back  round,  like  a  loaf  of  rye  bread.  Now  he  is 
dead  and  this  is  all  I  have  left.  Put  it  in  the  brewery 
for  me/' 

Moritz  refused  to  take  it,  and  she  grew  abusive;  for 
she  had  a  sharp  tongue.  ;'You  won't  take  my  money, 
my  honest  money?  You  alone  want  to  get  rich!  May 
you  choke  on  your  money !  Why  can't  you  give  a  poor 
widow  a  chance?  They  tell  me  that  you  shovel  in  your 
money  by  the  bagful  every  night.  What  are  you  going 
to  do  with  it  when  you  die?  You  want  to  take  it  with 
you?  And  your  wife,  she  will  marry  the  goy  who  is 
running  after  her  and  they  will  spend  your  money,  they 
won't  even  buy  you  a  decent  stone  for  your  grave,  you 
hard  hearted  man!"  He  had  to  drive  her  out  of  his 
office,  and  when  she  reached  the  street,  she  was  still 
abusing  him. 

The  Bohemian  brewer  came  in  immediately  after  and 
told  him  that  he  had  something  disagreeable  to  tell  him, 
he  hated  to  do  it  but  the  Pan  Sandor  wouldn't  listen  to 
him  and  he  felt  that  he  had  to  tell  some  one.  "  The  beer 
will  not  keep  the  way  it  is  being  made,  I  know  it.  If 
we  could  sell  it  now  it  would  be  all  right,  but  Herr  Ritter 
does  not  understand  the  difference  in  the  climate,  and  the 
nature  of  the  water."  The  Bohemian  continued,  that 
when  he  told  all  this  to  the  Herr  Ritter,  he  replied  that  it 
was  nothing  but  the  Bohemian's  desire  to  discredit  him 
and  that  he  was  a  Pan-Slav. 


THE  MAGIC  SENTENCE  209 

Poor  Moritz  Redlich  was  thinking  of  all  this  as  he 
walked  nervously  up  and  down.  The  beating  in  his  head 
began  and  he  felt  the  choking  hand  on  his  throat.  Just 
then  the  Fraulein  in  the  next  room  played  a  soft  strange 
tune,  and  she  sang  so  tenderly  and  in  a  voice  so  full  of 
pathos,  that  he  could  not  believe  that  it  was  she.  It  was 
an  American  song  he  was  sure,  and  it  sounded  as  if  there 
was  joy  in  its  sadness,  as  if  flowers  were  blooming  in 
the  winter  time.  "  Over  there  in  America  it  is  fine,  every 
thing  is  fine,"  muttered  the  old  man  as  he  kissed  Sophie 
good  night. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE:  THE  GREAT 
CATASTROPHE 

THE  peasants  had  plowed  their  fields  and  now  rib 
bons  of  gentle  green  turned  thicker  and  darker,  the 
beet  fields  were  thinned,  and  men  and  women,  looking 
like  four  footed  animals,  were  bent  between  the  far 
stretching  rows,  weeding  them  and  stirring  the  earth. 
The  promenaders  on  the  Esplanade  were  saying  to  each 
other :  "  How  fine  the  rye  looks,  and  how  high  the  wheat 
has  grown,  and  how  well  the  sugar  beets  show !  Chvala, 
Bohu! "  God  be  praised.  They  did  not  know  whether 
it  would  be  a  good  harvest  or  not,  there  was  destruction 
in  the  clouds,  when  the  hail  came  clattering  down,  like 
wild  horses  trampling  out  the  hope  of  harvest.  But 
after  all,  they  knew  that  when  they  sowed  wheat  they 
would  reap  the  same,  when  they  planted  beets  they  should 
not  pull  horse  radish,  and  that  from  the  seed  of  corn  they 
garnered  corn,  more  or  less,  "  Chvala  Bohu*?' 

"  It  is  so  different  with  this  life  of  ours,"  the  wise 
people  of  Hraszova  were  saying,  shaking  their  heads  and 
thinking  of  Moritz  Redlich,  what  he  sowed  and  what  he 
reaped,  and  how  "  the  Good  Book,  the  Lord  forgive  us, 
is  mistaken ;  for  he  sowed  good  wheat  and  reaped  cockle 
burrs  and  wild  peas,  and  hemp,  and  may  the  Lord  grant 
peace  to  his  troubled  soul !  " 

At  the  big  brewery  it  was  as  silent  as  over  there  by 
the  Esplanade,  where  the  dead  slept,  partitioned  off  be 
hind  those  iron  fences.  The  tall  new  chimney  was  but 
slightly  discolored  by  smoke,  like  a  young  beard  on  the 
face  of  a  boy;  beneath  it  the  boilers  were  cold,  the  fires 
were  dead,  and  the  new  engines  of  glistening  steel  and 

210 


THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE  211 

shining  brass  looked  like  paralyzed  giants.  A  sour,  foul 
smell  hung  over  the  place,  and  in  the  gutters  ran  a  colored 
fluid,  causing  the  peasants  to  shake  their  heads  over  such 
waste. 

Standing  empty  in  the  deserted  yard  were  the  brightly 
painted  carts,  red  and  white  and  green,  which  were  to 
carry  in  triumph  the  Hungarian  beer,  so  superior  to  that 
brewed  in  Bohemia,  while  the  sparrows'  quarreling  over 
scattered  grains  of  barley  seemed  like  an  echo  of  the  strife 
among  men.  The  doors  of  the  brewery  were  sealed  and 
the  windows  barred ;  the  last  scene  of  the  last  act  had  been 
played  and  the  spiders  were  already  weaving  the  curtain. 

A  few  days  ago  an  automobile  came  honking  into 
Hraszova.  The  oxen  under  their  heavy  yokes  reared  as 
if  struck  by  a  goad,  then  resumed  their  peaceful  plod 
ding;  the  drivers  jumped  to  the  sidewalk  as  if  a  cannon 
ball  were  flying  past  them,  then  scratched  their  heads 
and  watched  the  blinding  cloud  of  dust,  vocal,  as  if 
thunder  were  rising  from  the  earth,  and  wondered 
whether  the  end  of  the  world  had  really  come,  as  the 
"  Salvesh  "  predicted. 

The  car  stopped  at  the  brewery,  causing  no  small  com 
motion,  and  became  the  center  of  the  curious.  Excited 
voices  were  heard  in  the  office.  The  Bohemian  brewer 
was  summoned,  and  Herr  Ritter  came  soon  after.  "  Pan- 
Slav!  "  and  "  German  pig!  "  and  other  well  worn  epithets 
were  being  hurled  into  the  quarrel.  The  men  who  came 
in  the  automobile  walked  across  the  yard,  then  into  the 
cellars,  from  which  they  retreated  in  haste.  They  ran  up 
and  down  the  stairs  of  the  malt  house,  looked  into  the 
yeast  presses,  and  when  they  returned  to  the  office,  they 
locked  themselves  in  and  examined  the  books.  Then  this 
coroner's  jury,  sent  by  the  banks  from  Budapest,  de 
clared  :  "  The  Hungarian  National  Distilling  and  Brew 
ing  Company,  dead.  Cause,  criminal  carelessness." 


212      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Criminal  patriotism  would  have  been  nearer  the  truth, 
but  who  would  have  dared  say  it  and  who  would  have 
known  what  it  meant? 

"  Bankrupt !  "  The  word  sped  through  the  brewery  in 
an  incredibly  short  time,  the  pistons  of  the  engines 
stopped  midway,  the  great  wheel  revolved  a  few  times, 
carried  by  its  own  momentum,  the  whistle  blew  mourn 
fully,  for  the  last  time,  and  the  workmen  came  running 
to  the  office,  clamoring  for  their  pay. 

The  idlers  who  had  gathered  round  the  automobile 
caught  the  fatal  word,  and  carried  it  through  the  town, 
where  the  news  fell  from  their  lips  like  frost  upon  tender 
stalks.  Doors  were  opened  and  no  one  thought  of  shut 
ting  them;  there  was  a  clatter  of  boots  and  the  patter  of 
bare  feet  as  men  and  women  ran  breathlessly  to  the  brew 
ery  as  if  they  were  running  to  a  fire,  eager  to  save  some 
thing  from  destruction.  Armed  gendarmes  met  them  at 
the  closed  gates,  and  then  their  feeling  became  vocal 
as  they  called  for  Moritz  Redlich,  then  for  his  sons  and 
Herr  Ritter;  but  no  one  responded.  The  mob  increased 
and  pressed  against  the  unyielding  gendarmes.  Finding 
itself  balked,  it  turned,  as  a  snake  turns,  and  moved  with 
incredible  swiftness  to  Moritz  Redlich's  house. 

Mina  Barkeles,  the  glazier's  widow,  was  the  head  of 
the  serpent,  and  her  lying  tongue  led  in  accusation  against 
the  old  man.  "  Robber  of  widows  and  orphans,  may  the 
apoplexy  strike  you  half  dead,  and  leave  the  other  half 
to  live  in  torment,  to  see  the  ruin  you  have  brought  on  us ! 
My  precious  money,  my  husband's  hard  earnings — give 
me  back  my  money  which  you  lured  from  me !  "  She  did 
not  say  that  Moritz  Redlich  had  refused  to  take  her 
money  and  that  she  carried  it  to  the  office  and  gave  it  to 
his  son,  who  gave  her  in  return  a  piece  of  colored  paper 
which  she  had  taken  home,  shaking  her  fist  at  the  old  man 
who  "  refused  to  share  his  profits  with  a  poor  widow." 


THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE  213 

Old,  toothless  men  took  up  the  curses  and  the  shrill 
voices  of  children  joined  in  the  lament.  In  the  midst  of 
the  clamor  a  window  was  opened  and  Moritz  Redlich 
appeared,  his  face  gray  as  if  mourners'  ashes  had  been 
scattered  over  it.  He  tried  to  speak  and  his  voice  was 
drowned  by  the  storm,  the  storm  which  was  sweeping 
away  his  good  name. 

A  madness  seized  him  and  he  began  emptying  his 
pockets  and  throwing  the  contents  into  the  maw  of  the 
serpent;  he  tore  the  watch  and  chain  from  his  vest,  and 
the  serpent  squirmed,  and  curled,  and  twisted,  and  almost 
devoured  itself.  Again  and  again  he  came  to  the  window. 
He  had  torn  the  curtains  from  the  doorways  with  his 
aching  teeth,  till  his  gums  were  bleeding,  and  he  flung 
the  rich  hangings  down  upon  the  street;  he  pulled  costly 
pictures  from  the  walls,  and  hurled  them  into  the  crowd. 
A  big,  bentwood  rocking  chair,  his  wife's  throne  of 
vanity,  followed;  yet  the  people  shrieked  and  cursed, 
unsatisfied. 

He  turned  from  the  window  and  the  screaming  voice 
of  his  wife  was  heard,  but  the  mob  had  no  pity,  and  he 
faced  it  again  and  cried :  "  Take  this,  and  this !  Take  it 
all ! "  And  he  flung  down  his  wife's  diamond  necklace 
which  he  had  torn  from  her  jewel-box,  and  the  rings 
he  had  wrenched  from  her  fingers.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  there,  facing  the  serpent,  and  still  it  squirmed  and 
hissed.  Then  he  dragged  a  chest  to  the  window,  Sophie's 
dower  chest,  and  he  threw  out  the  damask  napkins  and 
the  fine  linen  sheets  and  all  the  dainty  embroideries  which 
were  destined  for  her  bridal;  Gittele's  treasures  for  her 
child.  His  heart  grew  sick  as  he  saw  them  trampled  and 
crumpled  under  the  dirty  feet  of  the  people  as  they 
snatched  them  from  one  another,  still  cursing  his  good 
name,  the  good  name  of  Moritz  Redlich. 

"  What  more  do  you  want  ?  "  he  yelled  at  them,  and 


214      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

they  did  not  heed  or  answer.  "  Do  you  want  my  life? 
Take  it,  but  give  me  back  my  good  name !  " 

What  did  they  care,  and  why  should  they  care  for  his 
good  name,  with  all  their  savings  gone  and  the  spoiled 
beer  running  in  the  gutters,  and  the  bank  officials  sealing 
the  doors  of  the  brewery?  He  looked  for  pity  and  there 
was  none.  No  one  remembered  Moritz  Redlich,  the  staff 
and  stay  of  the  poor,  the  comforter  of  the  mourners,  the 
benefactor  of  widows  and  orphans.  They  kept  on  cursing 
his  good  name. 

"Take  it  then!  "he  cried  hoarsely,  his  voice  unheard 
by  the  frenzied  creatures  and  sounding  to  him  like  the 
voice  of  another  man  whom  he  would  save  but  could  not, 
and  there,  before  the  rabble,  he  began  to  choke  himself, 
till  his  face  grew  red  and  his  eyes  stood  out  in  their 
sockets. 

Delicate  hands  were  trying  to  unloose  his  grip  upon  his 
throat.  Sophie  had  risen  from  her  bed,  and  flushed  by 
fever,  was  struggling  before  them  all,  with  her  desperate 
father.  At  the  sight  the  serpent  did  not  hiss,  for  it  be 
came  human  again,  and  Mina  Barkeles,  the  glazier's 
widow,  began  wiping  her  eyes  and  saying :  "  Poor 
Moritz !  poor  Moritz !  "  and  she  beat  her  breast,  for  she 
knew  she  had  sinned  against  him.  The  men  and  women 
dropped  the  booty  they  had  snatched,  and  walked  home, 
weeping  and  lamenting  for  their  lost  money,  but  no  longer 
cursing  the  good  name  of  Moritz  Redlich. 

All  day  he  lay  on  his  bed  like  a  dead  man,  the  nervous 
twitching  of  his  body  being  the  only  sign  of  life.  Dr. 
Makutchky  was  there  and  other  friends  gathered  round 
his  bed,  but  he  did  not  know  them.  Father  Anton  Kal- 
man  held  the  cold  hand  of  his  comrade  and  tried  to  pray, 
but  he  could  only  repeat  over  and  over  again :  "  Poor 
Moritz !  Poor  friend !  Poor  Moritz !  " 

Christina  came  with  offers  of  financial  aid  from  her 


THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE  215 

father,  but  Attorney  Finor  said  it  was  useless,  the  firm 
was  dead. 

Yanek  and  Sonya  sat  by  Sophie's  bedside,  and  when 
Christina  came  there  and  saw  them  she  quickly  left  the 
room..  Her  heart  ached,  not  only  because  it  was  the  first 
time  her  place  at  the  side  of  the  suffering  had  been 
usurped ;  she  was  thinking  of  the  last  time  she  and  Yanek 
shared  together  the  woe  of  another.  The  memory  of  the 
dying  moments  of  her  beloved,  the  martyred  school 
master,  brought  such  anguish  that  she  almost  cried  out 
in  her  agony,  and  dared  not  enter  Madam  Redlich's  room 
as  she  had  intended,  but  hurried  back  to  the  Pan. 

The  Madam  lay  upon  her  bed  and  beside  her  stood  Dr. 
Makutchky.  She  was  deathly  sick,  she  told  him,  and 
complained  bitterly,  saying  that  this  disgrace  would  kill 
her — yet  the  doctor  noticed  that  she  wore  a  very  elaborate 
negligee  and  had  given  coquettish  touches  to  her  hair, 
things  of  which  those  who  are  "  deathly  sick  "  scarcely 
think.  "  What  a  calamity !  "  she  wailed.  "  My  dear 
Moritz !  I  must  see  my  dear  Moritz !  "  Wouldn't  the 
doctor  carry  her  to  see  him,  for  she  was  unable  to  walk. 

"  Madam,"  he  said  to  her  in  his  dry,  hard  way,  "  there 
are  two  sick  people  in  this  house  and  not  three  and  if  you 
want  to  see  your  husband  you  will  have  to  walk  to  him/' 
He  was  tempted  to  tell  her  of  the  irreparable  wrong  she 
had  done  to  the  good  name  of  Moritz  Redlich,  but  he 
might  as  well  have  reproached  a  muddy  pond  for  drown 
ing  a  man.  Finding  herself  unable  to  move  the  doctor, 
she  rose  from  her  bed  and  simulating  pain,  walked  to  her 
husband's  room,  and  throwing  herself  upon  his  bed,  em 
braced  him  and  begged  his  forgiveness  for  all  her  sins. 
He  stirred  uneasily,  then  his  eyes  opened  and  she  was 
held  by  his  look  as  if  fascinated,  until  with  a  cry  of  real 
anguish  she  slipped  to  the  floor,  and  snatching  his  unre 
sponsive  hand  kissed  it  and  called  him  all  the  sweet 


216      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

names  she  had  wasted  on  other  men.  The  sons  had  come 
in  and  were  glad  that  their  father  was  asleep.  Guiltily 
they  hurried  out  again,  fearful  that  he  might  waken. 

The  servants  walked  about  on  tiptoe,  callers  came  and 
went,  doors  creaked,  the  Madam  sobbed  hysterically  and 
still  the  old  man  slept.  Dr.  Makutchky  had  left  powders 
to  be  given  him  if  he  should  wake,  and  he  emphasized 
the  need  of  keeping  a  close  watch  upon  him. 

Madam  Redlich  stayed,  crouched  on  the  floor,  till  mid 
night.  Once  or  twice  she  thought  her  husband's  eyes  had 
opened  and  she  rose  and  offered  him  the  powders,  but  he 
lay  almost  motionless,  except  for  his  groaning  and  the 
twitching  of  his  body.  Her  maid  came  in  and  urged  her 
to  go  to  bed,  offering  to  watch  the  rest  of  the  night,  but 
the  Madam  insisted  upon  staying,  and  the  servant  lay 
down  upon  the  couch,  to  be  near  her  mistress  in  case  of 
need.  In  the  outer  room  Andrew  Feher  was  sitting 
smoking,  an  additional  guard  for  the  night. 

Madam  Redlich's  head  was  throbbing  painfully,  for 
indeed  it  had  been  a  dreadful  day.  She  looked  at  herself 
in  the  mirror,  and  was  frightened  at  her  own  face,  for 
an  old  woman  stared  at  her,  a  wrecked,  old  woman.  The 
maid  heard  her  mistress  moving  about  and  began  to  talk 
to  her  of  the  events  of  the  day,  perhaps  for  the  pleasure 
of  causing  more  pain. 

"  Did  the  Madam  know  that  her  sons  had  been  in 
dicted?  Strashno,  strashno!  terrible,  terrible.  The  Bo 
hemian  brewer  has  been  arrested."  "  It  served  him 
right,"  thought  the  Madam,  for  wasn't  he  really  the  cause 
of  all  the  trouble  ?  It  was  all  Pan-Slav  propaganda,  this 
wrecking  of  an  Hungarian  brewery;  that  is  what  the 
Herr  Ritter  always  said  to  her,  that  everything  was  due 
to  Pan-Slav  propaganda,  and  her  thoughts  wandered 
away  from  her  husband  and  her  troubles,  to  the  Herr 
Ritter,  and  the  shame  of  it  all  was  a  sort  of  comfort  to 


THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE  217 

her.  Now  that  everything  was  going,  perhaps  the  Herr 
Ritter 

"  Does  the  Madam  know  that  the  Herr  Ritter  left  town 
this  afternoon  in  Lindner's  omnibus  ?  "  Then  her  heart 
stood  still  and  she  almost  cried  out,  but  stifled  the  cry  be 
fore  it  left  her  lips.  "  And,"  the  servant  continued,  "  the 
Fraulein  went  with  him.  What  a  Schkandal!"  the  girl 
repeated  to  herself,  mimicking  the  Fraulein. 

The  servant  had  fallen  asleep,  and  the  Madam  was  ly 
ing  across  the  bed  at  her  husband's  feet.  Her  head  was 
aching  as  if  a  thousand  hammers  were  beating  against  it. 
Sophie  called  from  the  other  room  and  she  answered  and 
reassured  her  about  her  father.  Then  everything  grew 
quiet  again,  even  her  head  ceased  aching.  There  was  just 
a  humming  and  buzzing  in  her  ears.  She  was  awake  she 
told  herself,  of  course  she  was  awake.  How  could  she 
sleep  a  night  like  this? 

Moritz  Redlich  had  watched  them  with  the  cunning  of 
the  demented.  He  slid  noiselessly  to  the  floor,  and  in  his 
night  clothes,  ran  out,  past  the  snoring  Andrew  Feher, 
into  the  street.  The  watchman  was  calling  the  fourth 
hour,  and  daylight  had  crept  into  the  sky.  Gentle  and 
sweet  and  rosy  it  looked,  as  on  those  days  when  he  had 
to  drive  to  the  market  in  Trnava,  with  his  wagon  full  of 
plum  brandy.  The  earth  smelled  just  as  fresh  as  then, 
and  the  pale  stars  twinkled  as  they  used  to  twinkle  at  the 
young  boy  who  had  taken  an  old  man's  burden  upon  him, 
and  had  never  laid  it  down. 

Yes,  he  must  go  to  the  distillery  now  and  load  up. 
Strange  that  the  men  were  not  yet  there,  and  the  horses 
had  to  be  fed.  Those  lazy  drivers!  But  what  did  they 
care  for  the  scolding  of  a  young  boy,  though  he  was 
their  master  ? 

"  That's  the  Pan's  house,  I  know  it  by  the  rosemary. 
I  wonder  if  the  young  Pan,  when  he  comes  back  from  the 


218      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Gymnasium,  will  still  remember  his  Jewish  playmate. 
They  do  seem  so  proud,  when  they  come  back  from 
school." 

There  was  the  distillery,  a  heavy  burden  for  a  young 
boy ;  but  look !  There  were  huge  creatures  on  each  side 
of  it  and  one  of  them  had  a  long  neck  and  a  small  head. 
"  Get  off !  "  he  yelled.  "  Don't  crush  my  father's  dis 
tillery!  Don't  you  know  that  it  is  full  of  plum  brandy, 
and  that  I  have  to  take  it  to  the  market,  to  Trnava?  " 

But  the  beasts  did  not  move,  and  the  huge  neck  of  the 
one  seemed  to  lengthen  in  defiance,  and  its  little  bearded 
face  smiled  at  him  sarcastically. 

"  Get  away  from  my  little  distillery !  "  he  cried  again, 
and  was  about  to  hurl  a  rock  at  it,  when  a  finger  was 
stretched  out  from  the  Sun;  a  long,  thin,  shining  finger, 
and  it  moved  over  the  buildings  and  stopped,  pointing  at 
the  big  sign  which  he  began  spelling  out.  The  Hungarian 
National  Distilling  and  Brewing  Company.  The  rock 
dropped  from  his  hand  and  he  knew  what  day  it  was 
which  was  dawning. 

Good  God!  What  a  day  he  had  lived  to  see!  And 
the  gentle  gold  of  the  dawn  grew  suddenly  red,  like  blood, 
and  he  saw  nothing  but  the  Herr  Ritter  letting  down  the 
plain,  little  sign,  Moritz  Redlich,  Distiller.  There  it  was, 
hanging  by  a  rope !  Moritz  Redlich  hanging  by  a  rope ! 
He  would  tear  down  the  big  Magyar  sign  they  had  put 
up  there,  the  big  glittering  sign,  in  an  alien  tongue. 
Where  could  he  find  a  ladder  ?  There  by  the  barns  out 
side  the  brewery  he  found  one  and  dragged  it  across  the 
silent  street,  and  lifted  it  with  superhuman  strength.  He 
tied  a  stout  rope  around  the  sign  and  began  pulling  and 
tearing  at  it  but  it  would  not  yield ;  it  was  all  done,  fixed, 
forever  and  ever!  He  stood  up  there  beating  his  head 
with  his  hands,  for  the  madness  was  filling  it,  and  the 
familiar  voice  was  calling  to  him  to  end  it  all,  but  he 


THE  GREAT  CATASTROPHE  219 

must  live!  "  God,  righteous  God!  "  he  cried,  "how  can 
I  leave  my  Sophie  in  this  misery?  "  But  the  hands  kept 
clutching  at  his  throat,  and  the  voice  repeated  its 
demand. 

There  was  a  word  that  had  saved  him  many  a  time, 
what  was  it?  "  Oh  God,  the  word!  the  word!  What  is 
it?  "  He  knew  it  had  something  to  do  with  buttoning  and 
unbuttoning  his  coat ;  but  when  he  unbuttoned  his  night 
shirt  he  felt  cold  and  shivered.  If  he  could  only  think  of 
the  word ! 

In  the  yard  of  the  brewery  from  which  he  was  locked 
out,  he  heard  footsteps.  Iron  heels  were  striking  the 
cobblestones.  There  were  two  men,  and  they  were  talk 
ing  to  each  other.  They  were  the  night  watchmen  finish 
ing  their  rounds  and  making  ready  to  go  home.  They 
were  talking  about  him,  and  cursing  the  "  Jewish  money 
grabbers,"  who  brought  so  much  ruin  to  the  town  so  that 
their  good  job  was  gone. 

"  I  don't  care,"  he  heard  one  of  them  say  as  he  stood 
listening.  "  I  planned  to  go  to  America  anyway.  They 
all  say  that  in  America  it  is  fine." 

Thank  God !  Thank  God !  He  had  the  word.  "  In 
America  it  is  fine,"  and  he  began  to  repeat  it — "  In 
America  " — he  had  not  finished  the  magic  sentence  when 
the  other  man  said :  "  You  are  a  big  fool  if  you  go.  In 
America  it  is  not  fine,  it  is  bad.  I  have  been  there,  and 
I  am  thankful  that  I  brought  home  my  carcass.  My 
lungs  were  eaten  out  by  dust  and  my  skin  was  parched 
by  the  heat,  and  my  back  is  bent  by  hard  labor.  It  is 
not  fine  in  America,  it  is  bad,  bad !  "  He  began  to  cough 
and  spat  upon  the  ground  and  muttered  a  curse  as  they 
passed  on  toward  the  big  gate. 

Poor  Moritz  Redlich !  He  had  the  magic  word  but  it 
did  not  work  its  charm.  The  voice  urged  him,  the  mad 
ness  conquered  him,  the  unseen  hands  were  upon  his 


220      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

throat,  and  he  sank  into  the  great  abyss  and  into  the 
saving  silence. 

A  few  minutes  later,  from  the  big  gate  of  the  brewery, 
the  two  men  saw  something  which  looked  like  a  long 
pendulum  swinging  from  the  golden  sign.  "  Damn  my 
soul !  "  said  the  one  who  had  been  in  America.  "  That 
looks  like  a  man!  "  The  other  one  crossed  himself  and 
whispered,  awestruck:  "Jesus!  Marie  and  Joseph!  If  it 
isn't  the  old  Jew ! " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO:  SPIRITUS  MORTUUS 

THE  death  of  Moritz  Redlich  dulled  the  despair 
which  had  gripped  the  people  of  Hraszova.  The 
curses  died  cm  their  lips  and  in  their  pity  of  themselves 
they  could  now  include  the  old  man,  whose  suffering  was 
over.  As  his  naked  body  lay  on  the  floor  in  his  darkened 
bedroom,  the  pious  men  of  the  Burial  Society  who  had 
come  to  prepare  it  for  the  grave  disputed  as  to  whether 
they  should  cover  him  with  the  shroud  which  every  pious 
Jew  wears  at  his  wedding  and  on  the  great  holy  days 
to  remind  him  that  in  "  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death." 
After  some  argument  they  yielded  their  scruples  and  the 
flowing  white  garment  was  wrapped  around  him. 
Stitched  as  it  had  been  by  Gittele's  hands  and  embroid 
ered  in  gold  by  her  fingers,  it  brought  him  comfort,  if 
comfort  from  human  hands  could  reach  him. 

There  were  neither  candles  nor  flowers  to  lighten  the 
gloom,  nor  signs  nor  symbols  to  dull  the  sting  of  death 
and  defy  the  victory  of  the  grave.  Father  Anton  Kalman 
sent  a  wreath  of  cornflowers  and  poppies,  and  when  it 
was  brought  in  there  was  much  shaking  of  heads  and 
discussion  of  custom  and  proprieties.  When  it  was  de 
cided  that  it  might  be  accepted,  but  not  placed  upon  the 
bier,  Sophie  laid  it  on  the  piano.  The  wise  men  shook 
their  heads  the  more  when  they  read  the  words  painted 
on  the  ribbons :  "  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother. 
Thou  hast  been  very  pleasant  to  me.  Thy  love  was  won 
derful,  passing  the  love  of  women."  As  it  was  written 
in  Hebrew,  there  was  mild  approval  mingled  with  the 
doubts  of  the  most  orthodox. 

When  the  pall-bearers  lifted  the  bier  upon  their  shoul- 

221 


222      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

ders,  Madam  Redlich  threw  herself  in  their  way,  and 
filled  the  air  with  her  lament.  Those  who  restrained  her 
were  saying  to  themselves  and  to  each  other :  "  Had  she 
smiled  upon  him  more  while  he  was  living,  she  would 
have  less  need  to  weep  now."  Gently  they  pushed  her 
aside,  and  passing  through  the  crowd  which  had  gathered 
around  the  door,  they  headed  the  procession.  The  sons 
who  had  been  released  on  bail,  followed  the  body,  not 
daring  to  lift  their  heads.  When  the  beadle  came  and 
with  his  knife  cut  the  lapels  of  their  coats,  symbolizing 
the  rending  of  their  garments,  they  bowed  themselves 
low,  more  in  shame  than  in  sorrow. 

In  disorder  and  confusion  the  crowd  followed,  joining 
in  a  chant  which  combined  the  despair  of  Job  and  the 
hope  of  David,  but  which  was  without  measure  or  rhythm. 
No  women  were  there.  They  remained  at  the  Redlich 
home  to  add  to  the  confusion  and  lamentation,  or  stood 
in  huddled  groups  by  their  doorways,  thinking  the  deep 
solemn  thoughts  which  death  invokes. 

Sophie,  weakened  by  her  long  illness,  and  exhausted  by 
grief,  had  been  persuaded  to  return  to  her  bed,  by  Chris 
tina,  who  sat  beside  her,  thinking  anxiously  of  her  father, 
whom  she  had  left  very  reluctantly.  Sonya  realizing  her 
own  limitations  as  never  before  and  feeling  that  she  could 
not  take  Christina's  place,  had  begged  her  to  come. 
Sophie  loved  Christina,  whose  mere  presence  so  soothed 
her  that  in  spite  of  the  wailing  of  the  women  below,  she 
fell  asleep  soon  after  her  beloved  father  had  been  taken 
to  his  last  resting-place.  Then  Christina  stole  quietly  out 
and  ran  home. 

Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  had  watched  from  his  window  the 
stir  caused  by  the  failure  of  the  Redlich  brewery,  and 
growled  until  they  told  him  what  had  happened;  then 
tears  trickled  down  his  cheeks  and  they  could  not  move 
him  from  the  window  till  the  street  grew  quiet.  He 


SPIRITUS  MORTUUS  223 

spent  a  sleepless  night,  and  in  the  morning  as  his  daugh 
ters  were  leading  him  to  prayers  Marisha  burst  into  the 
room  screaming :  "  May  the  Pan  Boch  have  mercy  on  us, 
the  old  Jew  has  hung  himself !  "  The  Pan  gave  her  an 
uncomprehending  look,  then  the  awful  truth  seemed  to 
force  itself  into  his  brain,  and  he  threw  up  his  one  living 
hand  as  if  to  invoke  help  from  on  high.  Even  as  he 
lifted  it  they  saw  it  stiffen,  his  whole  body  grew  rigid, 
and  they  knew,  and  he  knew,  that  he  would  soon  follow 
his  friend.  At  the  time  of  the  funeral,  as  Yanek  and 
Sonya  sat  by  his  couch,  they  read  his  unuttered  wish  in 
his  appealing  eyes;  so  they  placed  him  by  the  window 
when  the  procession  passed.  He  looked  the  pain  which 
he  could  not  express,  and  there  were  tears  which  no  one 
could  see,  and  a  loving  eulogy  which  no  one  could  hear. 

As  the  pall-bearers  approached  the  parsonage  the  bell 
of  the  Catholic  church  began  to  toll,  and  Father  Anton 
Kalman  stepped  out.  As  the»men  made  way  for  him,  the 
bell  suddenly  stopped  ringing,  the  last  stroke  was  broken 
and  vibrated  unfinished  through  the  air.  Father  Kalman 
looked  perplexedly  up  to  the  church  steeple,  then  joined 
the  dolorous  procession.  He  walked  close  to  the  pall 
bearers,  closer  than  Moritz  Redlich's  sons,  and  as  it  is 
the  custom  of  the  Jews  to  permit  all  those  who  wish  it  to 
share  in  the  blessing  which  comes  from  carrying  the  dead 
to  their  last  resting-place,  they  let  Father  Kalman  in  be 
neath  the  bier,  where  the  burden  was  lightest,  and  even 
then  they  tried  not  to  let  it  rest  too  heavily  on  his 
shoulders. 

Drear  and  dismal  was  the  God's  acre  to  which  they  car 
ried  the  body  of  Moritz  Redlich.  No  trees  shaded  the 
sun-baked  slope,  and  weeds  grew  unchecked,  hiding  the 
sunken  headstones  which  leaned  at  all  angles,  as  if  weary 
of  their  long  vigil.  The  rusty  gate  hung  slack  upon  its 
hinges  and  had  long  ago  ceased  to  swing  wide  for  those 


224      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

who  entered.  They  had  dug  his  grave  close  to  the  wall, 
where  those  sleep,  who  have  not  bided  God's  time,  and  in 
the  memory  of  that  generation,  this  was  the  first  body  to 
lie  thus  dishonored;  for  the  Jew  is  tenacious  of  life,  and 
fears  his  offended  Maker. 

Up  there  upon  the  hillside  Moritz  Redlich  had  helped 
to  lay  away  Gittele's  body,  over  eighteen  years  before, 
and  he  had  bought  the  lot  that  he  might  lie  beside  her. 
This  was  a  privilege  denied  him,  and  from  his  faraway 
and  sunken  corner  there  was  not  even  a  glimpse  of  the 
shining  stone  of  marble  which  he  had  placed  there  in  her 
memory. 

Yet  nature,  which  man  considers  stern  and  unrelent 
ing,  was  more  forgiving  than  he  and  gave  a  gracious 
touch  to  the  desolate  spot.  A  plum  tree  growing  on  the 
other  side  of  the  wall  reached  its  branches  across,  prom 
ising  to  shade  and  shelter  the  grave.  In  the  autumn  the 
rich  blue  plums  would  fall  upon  it,  and  what  was  more 
beautiful  than  blue  plums  to  Moritz  Redlich? 

Clumsily  they  lowered  his  body  into  the  grave,  and 
when  the  ropes  were  withdrawn  the  sexton  descended  into 
the  grave  to  perform  the  last  solemn  rite. 

Reb  Aaron  Mandl  was  the  sexton  and  the  almoner  of 
the  Jews  of  Hraszova,  an  Israelite  in  whom  there  was 
"  no  guile."  The  professional  schnorrers  feared  him,  but 
the  poor  loved  and  trusted  him.  He  never  asked  anything 
for  himself,  but  he  could  beg  for  others  as  if  he  were 
asking  for  his  own  life.  While  the  righteous  are  never 
forsaken,  God  often  keeps  them  on  close  rations,  and 
Reb  Aaron  Mandl  lived  on  the  edge  of  nothing,  as  con 
tentedly  as  if  he  were  in  the  midst  of  plenty.  He  knew 
the  holy  books  by  heart  and  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients 
was  upon  his  lips.  That  which  kept  him  from  being  a 
Rabbi  was  that  he  stammered.  Had  he  been  born  with 
a  free  tongue  he  would  have  exalted  his  position,  for  he 


SPIRITUS  MORTUUS  225 

was  in  the  direct  succession  of  the  men  who  spoke  as  God 
gave  them  utterance.  He  prayed  that  this  infirmity  might 
be  removed :  but  no  miracle  happened,  and  he  was  con 
tent  to  be  a  doorkeeper  in  the  House  of  the  Lord,  and 
the  official  slaughterer  of  the  fowl  and  cattle. 

As  he  always  performed  the  last  sad  rites  at  the  grave 
of  the  dead,  the  kindred  of  the  departed  frequently  went 
to  his  house  before  the  funeral,  and  many  a  crown  was 
pressed  into  his  hands  that  he  might  speak  flattering,  if 
not  lying  words ;  but  the  words  he  spoke  were  addressed 
to  the  spirit  of  the  departed  which  was  supposed  to  hover 
over  the  grave;  they  must  be  true  and  as  just  as  the 
fallible  judgment  of  man  could  make  them. 

He  put  the  bag  of  sacred  earth  under  the  head  of 
Moritz  Redlich  and  placed  in  his  hands  the  forked  twigs 
as  a  symbolic  aid  in  the  resurrection;  then, he  spoke  to 
the  dead  as  was  his  custom.  His  voice  rose  from  the 
grave  in  a  sharp  staccato,  like  the  rattle  of  a  drum,  inter 
rupted  by  long  stammering  pauses. 

"  Moritz  Redlich,  may  your  head  rest  on  the  sacred  soil 
of  Palestine  till  the  day  of  the  Great  Judgment ;  may  the 
angel  of  God  not  miss  your  grave  when  he  comes  to  raise 
the  dead. 

"You  have  been  the  staff  and  stay  of  Israel  for  a 
generation,  unto  you  we  gave  heed,  and  your  speech  fell 
upon  our  ears  like  rain.  You  smiled  upon  us  when  we 
had  no  confidence,  you  pointed  the  way  when  we  were 
bewildered;  you  delivered  the  poor  when  they  cried,  the 
fatherless  also  when  they  had  none  to  help  them. 

:<  You  were  eyes  to  the  blind  and  feet  to  the  lame  and  a 
father  to  the  needy.  Your  lips  never  uttered  unrighteous 
ness  and  you  spoke  no  deceit.  When  God  afflicted  you, 
you  never  turned  away  from  Him,  and  when  we  fenced 
you  about  with  derision  you  did  not  break  through  in 
anger.  Your  kinsfolk  have  failed  you,  and  those  whom 


226      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

you  have  loved  have  turned  against  you,  and  the  hand  of 
God  has  touched  you."  There  was  a  pause,  for  the  old 
man  was  weeping  and  stammering,  then  he  continued  his 
weird  lamentation. 

"  May  God  the  Almighty  Ruler  of  the  Universe  bless 
thy  friends,  who  through  good  report  and  evil  report  re 
mained  loyal  to  thee,  cleaving  closer  to  thee  than  those 
who  are  flesh  of  thy  flesh  and  bone  of  thy  bone,  and  may 
He  have  mercy  upon  us  as  we  need  mercy,  for  we  have 
sinned  against  thee.  We  have  sinned  against  thee, 
Moritz,  our  friend,  we  have  sinned  against  thee  as  we 
have  sinned  against  God  and  we  turned  from  thee  when 
thou  didst  need  a  helper."  And  he  began  smiting  his 
breast  and  the  sons  bowed  themselves  to  the  ground  and 
wept,  and  all  the  men  took  up  the  lamentation,  beating 
their  breasts  and  tearing  their  garments. 

"  May  God  have  mercy  on  your  wife,  on  your  sons 
and  your  daughter  and  on  us  miserable  sinners !  "  And 
they  repeated  it  after  him.  "  May  God  have  mercy  on 
us  miserable  sinners !  " 

"  May  the  earth  be  light  upon  your  broken  body,"  and 
he  stepped  out  of  the  grave  and  the  earth  began  falling 
into  it.  There  was  a  blessing  in  casting  earth  upon  the 
dead  and  they  all  shared  in  it,  including  Father  Kalman, 
who  remained  by  the  grave  until  they  had  gone. 

When  he  walked  home  alone  through  the  Esplanade, 
the  swish  of  his  sutan  was  accompanied  by  his  sobs  and 
in  his  hand  he  tenderly  held  the  snuff  tobacco  box  which 
he  had  kept  for  his  friend,  the  box  with  the  Greek  god 
dess  on  the  lid.  He  turned  it  between  his  thumb  and 
finger  as  if  undecided  what  to  do.  Then  he  slipped  it  into 
his  pocket  and  took  snuff  from  the  one  having  the  picture 
of  Christ  with  the  bleeding  heart. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE:  SANCTI  EXITI 

THE  cornflowers  had  faded  and  the  poppies  stood 
stiff  and  dry  with  ripening  pods.  The  little  boys 
were  breaking  and  shaking  them  and  were  munching  the 
creamy  seeds,  not  however  before  they  had  pronounced 
an  incantation,  for  it  is  bad  form  to  open  a  poppy  seed 
pod  without  repeating  this  chant,  whose  meaning  only 
the  fairies  know. 

Poppy  pod,  poppy  pod, 
Sleep  and  nod,  sleep  and  nod, 
Shake  you  up,  wake  you  up, 
Bite  your  head,  break  your  cup. 

The  sheen  of  gold  and  silver  had  crept  into  the  grain 
and  the  beets  were  growing  undisturbed,  drawing  their 
sweetness  from  the  sun  and  air ;  the  cabbages  sealed  their 
heads  more  solidly  against  worms  and  pests  and  all  other 
pernicious  influences,  intent  upon  being  good  cabbages. 
Indeed  it  promised  to  be  an  abundant  harvest  "  Chvala 
Bohu  "  ;  but  the  workers  unlike  the  cabbages  were  not 
content  to  be  just  peasants,  and  their  heads  were  open 
to  all  sorts  of  strange  notions.  Stephan  Hruby  com 
plained  that  they  were  not  singing  as  they  used  to  sing, 
and  that  it  was  due  to  sugar  beets  and  emigration.  After 
the  Pan's  death,  which  came  soon  after  the  tragic  end  of 
Moritz  Redlich,  Yanek's  father  had  taken  charge  of  the 
farm,  and  with  it  inherited  the  Pan's  leather  breeches 
and  his  pet  aversions. 

Assuming  that  Stephan  Hruby  was  exaggerating  after 
the  manner  of  men  who  have  great  responsibilities  thrust 

227 


228      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

upon  them,  something  had  come  into  the  atmosphere  of 
Hraszova  which  had  robbed  it  of  its  buoyancy,  and  the 
very  air  seemed  laden  by  a  brooding  fate.  The  cheerful 
peasants  who  asked  so  little  of  life,  who  walked  as  docily 
as  the  oxen  beneath  their  yokes,  and  worked  from  sun 
rise  to  sunset,  began  to  question  whether  all  the  daylight 
were  for  labor,  and  whether  the  small  share  of  the 
harvest  which  they  received  was  a  just  reward  for  their 
toil. 

"  Yes,  it  is  those  Americans/'  the  young  Baron  said, 
"  if  we  could  only  ship  them  back  from  where  they  came 
.  .  ."  and  he  was  thinking  chiefly  of  Yanek  Hruby. 
"  Since  that  upstart  came  home,"  he  was  saying  to  Father 
Imre  Baczko,  with  whom  he  was  playing  cards  one  eve 
ning  at  the  Casino,  "  we  haven't  had  a  peaceful  day  in 
Hraszova. 

'  The  workmen  are  spoiled  for  us,  and  as  for  the 
women!  One  can't  have  them  and  use  them  and  then 
throw  them  aside  any  more,  but  some  clout  of  a  peasant 
lad  picks  them  up  baby  and  all  and  tries  to  call  one  to 
account."  Yes,  indeed,  the  good  times  for  the  spoilers 
were  gone.  The  curate  agreed  with  him  perfectly  and 
was  reminded  of  an  episode  he  would  rather  not  recall. 
An  American  had  come  into  the  parsonage  a  few  days 
before  and  told  him  that  if  he  had  him  over  in  America 
he  would  put  a  bullet  through  him,  "  Holy  Father  or  no 
Holy  Father,"  and  when  the  curate  tried  to  silence  him 
by  offering  him  some  banknotes,  he  threw  them  at  him 
and  swore  a  bloody  curse  right  in  his  face. 

The  Reverend  Imre  Baczko  wished  that  the  Baron's 
talk  had  not  revived  unpleasant  memories  and  so  spoiled 
his  perfectly  good  hand ;  he  tried  to  concentrate  upon  the 
few  cards  left,  pulling  heavily  upon  his  long  Virginia 
cigar,  but  he  was  losing  the  game,  for  he  could  not  keep 
his  mind  off  the  incident,  especially  as  Father  Kalman 


SANCTI  EXITI  229 

was  a  witness  of  the  disagreeable  interview  with  the 
American.  The  worst  of  it  was  that  the  old  man  did  not 
say  anything  to  his  curate — just  walked  up  and  down  the 
room  opening  and  shutting  his  snuff  tobacco  box  and 
muttering  and  crossing  himself. 

"  Yanek  Hruby,"  thought  the  curate,  "  he  could  leave 
to  the  Baron,  but  Father  Kalman  " — well  he  had  taken 
the  matter  up  with  the  Bishop.  There  was  the  last  elec 
tion  when  he  used  the  church  to  let  in  the  voters,  and  then 
tolling  the  church's  bell  at  a  Jew's  funeral,  and  a  suicide 
at  that!  Fortunately  he  stopped  that  sacrilege.  Any 
way  the  old  man  was  failing  and  ought  to  make  room  for 
a  younger  man. 

"  In  the  devil's  name,"  cried  the  Baron,  "  are  you  play 
ing  cards  or  are  you  dreaming?  " 

"  Neither,"  answered  Father  Baczko  curtly,  as  he  threw 
down  the  cards  and  left  the  Casino. 

It  was  not  only  the  peasants  who  were  changed  or 
changing,  singing  less  and  thinking  more;  back  of 
Vavra's  butcher  shop  there  was  a  brooding  silence  and 
the  puckery  wine  and  the  greasy  Petchenkas  could  not 
bring  back  the  good  old  times.  Wenzel  Motichka,  the 
firebrand,  after  being  in  jail,  had  been  sent  back  to  Bo 
hemia,  to  the  joy  of  the  gendarmes  but  to  the  regret  of 
the  small  boys,  for  Wenzel  made  good  candy. 

The  bootmakers  and  the  Hallinary  now  carried  their 
goods  to  the  markets  in  vain,  for  the  women  wanted  high 
heeled  shoes  with  patent  leather  tips,  and  stylish  clothes 
of  soft,  clinging  stuffs;  and  the  men  were  as  bad  as  the 
women,  so  that  one  couldn't  tell  a  peasant  from  a  trades 
man  by  his  clothes  or  by  watching  him  eat  and  drink. 

The  customers  at  Vavra's  wine  shop  grew  fewer  and 
fewer.  "  What's  the  good  of  staying  in  Hraszova,"  they 
said  as  they  were  leaving  for  America,  "  when  the 
Stephans  and  Pavels  and  the  Martzins  (meaning  the 


230      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Toms,  Dicks  and  Harrys  of  Slovakdom)  come  back  from 
over  there  and  walk  about  like  lords,  and  have  money 
enough  to  drink  sweet,  heavy  wine  at  the  inn  and  don't 
think  Pan  Vavra's  wine  shop  good  enough  for  them,  and 
won't  wear  heavy  cowhide  boots,  or  white,  stiff  Haliny 
(which  shed  hair  like  a  white  mangy  dog),  but  wear 
clothes  as  good  as  the  Baron's?"  It  was  growing  so 
quiet  back  of  Vavra's  butcher  shop  that  the  gendarmes 
passed  it  by  without  looking  or  listening,  now  that 
Wenzel  Motichka  was  gone  and  the  Slovak  spirit  had 
been  so  crushed  that  no  one  dared  sing  "Hey  Slovane." 

The  Magyar  officials  walked  about  proudly,  clicking 
their  boot  heels  and  twirling  their  waxed  mustaches,  sure 
of  their  overlordship  and  thanking  God  that  at  last  the 
government  was  in  strong  hands,  unyielding  and  effi 
cient,  that  the  nonsense  about  manhood  suffrage  had 
been  knocked  into  smithereens  and  that  emigration  was 
going  to  be  checked.  Everything  was  as  God  intended  it 
to  be  in  the  realm  of  St.  Stephan  except  that  the  Slovaks 
still  preferred  to  remain  Slovaks  and  that  in  the  army  the 
German  language  was  the  language  of  command.  So  in 
the  Parliament  they  debated  day  and  night  and  hurled 
hot  Magyar  oaths  and  inkwells  at  each  other  and  fought 
duels,  to  the  end  that  the  Slovaks  should  say  "  Ala 
Szolgayo  "  when  they  met  each  other  instead  of  "  Yak  se 
mash  "  and  that  the  soldiers  should  count  their  steps 
Egy,  Ketoe,  Harom  instead  of  eins,  zivei,  drci. 

The  Judge  also  thought  that  everything  was  as  it 
should  be  in  the  corner  of  Magyar  Orszag,  except  his 
asthma  and  the  gout,  and  the  Americans  who  had  gone 
away  like  sheep  and  had  come  back  like  rams.  As  for 
that  pesky  Yanek  Hruby  ...  in  Budapest  they  would 
find  a  way  to  deal  with  him,  just  wait !  And  his  triple 
chin  shook  with  satisfaction,  like  calf's  foot  jelly  just 
turned  out  of  the  mold.  Of  course  there  was  Father 


SANCTI  EXITI  231 

Anton  Kalman;  well,  he  was  an  old  man  and  one  could 
leave  him  to  the  curate ;  that  curate  is  no  fool,  even  if  he 
is  a  Holy  Father.  He  has  cut  his  eye  teeth. 

Father  Kalman  was  sitting  at  breakfast  on  one  of  those 
late  summer  days.  He  had  said  early  mass  as  an  act  of 
special  devotion,  for  he  needed  to  be  assured  of  the 
Divine  Presence ;  yet  he  must  have  been  thinking  wicked 
thoughts  for  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "  God  forgive 
me!"  and  was  mentally  crossing  himself.  Indeed  for 
Father  Kalman  things  were  not  as  they  ought  to  have 
been.  Hraszova  was  no  more  Hraszova,  now  that  Moritz 
Redlich  and  the  Pan  were  gone.  "  The  curate,  the 
curate !  "  That  was  the  reason  he  was  asking  Divine 
pardon  and  crossing  himself,  while  he  was  drinking  his 
coffee  and  dipping  the  crusty  roll  into  the  cup. 

"  I  can't  look  at  that  curate  any  longer,"  he  was  think 
ing,  as  Father  Imre  Baczko  came  in  and  sat  opposite  him. 
"  He  grows  flabbier  every  day  and  he  seems  to  ooze  un- 
cleanness.  Oh,  good  Lord,  judge  me  not  as  I  am  judg 
ing!  "  He  stifled  his  thoughts  of  the  curate  and  began 
thinking  of  loneliness  since  the  death  of  his  friends, 
and  of  Helena  and  how  homesick  she  was  and  how  im 
possible  it  was  to  have  her  with  him  even  for  a  short 
visit,  and  lo,  there  it  was  again — the  curate. 

"  The  Lord  be  praised !  Things  are  getting  along 
nicely  in  Hraszova,"  Father  Imre  Baczko  was  saying  to 
himself,  and  he  felt  no  need  to  make  the  holy  sign,  while 
there  was  a  look  of  triumph  in  his  eyes.  Two  letters  lay 
on  the  table,  one  at  each  place,  and  the  assurance  of  de 
liverance  came  through  them  for  they  were  formidable 
looking  and  the  Episcopal  seal  was  upon  them. 

After  Father  Kalman  had  carefully  scraped  the  sugar 
from  the  bottom  of  his  cup  and  had  taken  the  first  pinch 
of  snuff  for  the  day,  both  as  deliberately  as  always,  he 
carefully  cut  the  envelope  of  his  letter  with  the  edge  of 


232      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

the  large  bread  knife,  and  slowly  unfolded  the  parch- 
mentlike  sheet.  The  curate  tore  open  the  one  addressed 
to  him  and  had  read  and  reread  his  letter  while  Father 
Kalman  still  held  his  in  his  trembling  hand. 

Father  Baczko  was  clearing  his  throat  waiting  for  his 
vis-a-vis  to  say  something,  but  he  sat  silent,  a  faraway 
look  in  his  eyes;  thinking  that  perhaps  after  all  it  was 
God's  judgment  for  his  unchristian  thoughts  about  his 
curate.  But  what  should  he  have  thought  ?  One  cannot 
make  an  unclean  vessel  clean  by  thinking  it  so.  No,  it 
was  not  just  what  he  was  thinking  about  the  curate, 
but  what  he  had  seen  and  heard.  No,  he  had  not  trusted 
to  scandal  mongers. 

"  God  forgive  me,  perhaps  I  was  jealous — because  they 
liked  his  preaching  better.  Yes,  yes,  an  old  man  gets  to 
be  childish."  And  had  he  not  been  tempted,  and  how 
near  he  often  was  to  yielding,  and  how  often  and  how 
long  he  had  been  plagued  by  unclean  thoughts,  which 
held  his  will  as  in  a  vice.  Yet  he  had  overcome  tempta 
tion. 

But  there  was  the  apothecary's  cook  for  whose  down 
fall  the  curate  was  responsible.  The  women  lifted  their 
eyebrows  when  they  met  her.  Then  she  had  gone  away 
to  Trnava  for  a  time  and  had  come  back  looking  as 
well  as  ever,  only  she  was  very  pale.  "  Oh  Lord,  for 
give  me!  "  He  said  it  audibly  and  crossed  himself,  and 
took  an  extra  heavy  dose  of  snuff  and  wiped  his  eyes  to 
hide  the  tears  of  which  the  snuff  alone  was  not  the  cause. 

'  You  have  bad  news  ?  "  the  curate  asked,  his  malice 
finely  concealed. 

"  Oh  no,  very  good  news,  thank  you,  very  good  news," 
was  the  reply,  and  of  course  it  was  not  a  lie,  for,  after 
all,  he  would  be  rid  of  the  curate. 

'  You  have  been  transferred  ?  "  and  the  malice  was 
evident. 


SANCTI  EXITI  233 

"  No,  I  have  been  elevated."  Oh  good  Lord,  that  was 
not  a  lie,  for  the  little  parish  of  Boor  to  which  the  Bishop 
had  transferred  him  was  a  thousand  feet  up  in  the 
mountains,  on  a  cold  and  windswept  plateau. 

"  A  Bishopric — perhaps  ?  "  There  was  irony  in  the 
curate's  voice. 

"  Better  than  that — for  the  martyrs  shall  be  first," 
Father  Kalman  thought,  "  and  may  the  Lord  forgive  the 
pride  of  it." 

"  The  saints  are  always  rewarded,"  sneered  the 
curate. 

"  But  not  by  their  Bishops,"  retorted  Father  Kalman, 
and  a  swift  glance  of  triumph  escaped  his  eyes.  Then 
he  reproached  himself;  yet  he  knew  that  Father  Baczko's 
promotion  to  his  own  place  was  not  due  to  the  younger 
man's  saintliness. 

"You  should  not  have  meddled  in  politics,  Father 
Anton." 

"  I  did  not  meddle  on  the  right  side,  that  is  what  you 
mean,  is  it  not?  " 

"  The  government  is  always  on  the  right  side,"  the 
curate  replied  tartly. 

"  Have  it  your  way,  have  it  your  way,  Father  Baczko. 
Pilate  was  right  and  Jesus  was  wrong,  Festus  was  right 
and  Paul  was  wrong,  the  martyrs  were  wrong  and  Rome 
was  right.  You  are  right,  have  it  your  way." 

"  That  isn't  a  fair  argument,  Father  Anton.  Rome 
was  heathen  and  Hungary  is  Christian,  the  country  of 
St.  Stephan  and  St.  Elizabeth." 

"The  government  of  Hungary  is  Christian?  Yes, 
theoretically.  There  are  Bishops  and  Archbishops  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  and  the  king  is  crowned  by  the  priest 
and  the  cross  surmounts  the  crown ;  but  practically  it  is 
as  heathen  as  Rome  was.  Ah  well,  let  us  not  argue." 
And  Father  Kalman  sighed  deeply.  "  I  may  be  all 


234      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

wrong,  I  shall  soon  know  better,"  and  there  was  a  far 
away  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  shall  leave  here  next  week.  The  Bishop  says  that 
in  consideration  of  my  health  he  is  sending  me  up  into 
the  mountains;  so  I  must  go  to  the  health  resort  of  Boor 
as  soon  as  I  can.  I  shall  not  have  much  time  to  recuper 
ate.  It  may  interest  you  to  know  that  the  Bishop  is  not 
only  solicitous  about  my  health,  but  about  my  conduct 
also;  he  hopes  that  I  will  not  openly  associate  with  the 
Jews  and  Protestants.  The  Bishop  was  well  informed 
was  he  not?  " 

"  It  was  an  open  scandal  the  way  you  behaved,"  the 
curate  replied  half  apologetically.  "  I  did  not  have  to 
tell  the  Bishop  very  much.  Remember  that  you  went  to 
the  funeral  of  Moritz  Redlich,  and  that  you  ordered  the 
bell  tolled  for  him,  a  Jew,  a  suicide,  a  man  who  had 
cheated  men  and  women  out  of  their  money." 

The  blood  rose  in  the  pale  cheeks  of  Father  Anton 
Kalman.  "  I  must  beg  you  not  to  speak  of  that  Jew. 
You  are  not  fit  to  mention  his  name."  His  voice  grew 
husky.  "If  it  is  scandal  to  associate  with  Protestant 
and  Jewish  men  you  have  certainly  avoided  scandals.  Of 
course  you  play  cards  with  the  Baron  but  he  is  hardly  a 
man,  and  what  about  the  women?  Oh  well,  may  the 
saints  intercede  for  me.  Oh  Virgin  Mary,  intercede 
forme!" 

Father  Baczko  had  risen  angrily.  "  You  don't  mean 
to  insinuate  that  I  am  not  keeping  my  vows  of  chastity?  " 
He  had  struck  the  table  with  the  palm  of  his  hand  and 
his  voice  was  pitched  high. 

"  No,  no,  I  insinuate  nothing, — nothing — only  I  didn't 
know  that  it  was  a  sin  to  love  men  of  other  faiths  and 
blood.  Moritz  Redlich  was  so  much  like  John  the  beloved 
disciple,  he  was  no  Judas.  Don't  besmirch  his  name,  his 
good  name,"  and  he  opened  his  breviary  and  sought 


SANCTI  EXITI  235 

refuge  from  his  perplexities  in  the  calm  of  the  Divine 
Presence. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  we  know  it  is  on  account  of  Father 
Kalman's  poor  health  that  he  is  to  be  transferred  to 
Boor,"  the  faithful  ones  were  saying  and  they  shook  their 
heads  dubiously.  "  But  who  ever  heard  of  Boor  being 
a  health  resort?  The  old  men  have  the  rheumatism, 
the  women  have  goiters,  and  the  children  are  half 
witted,  and  if  you  want  to  find  your  stolen  pig,  go  up  to 
Boor.  A  nice  reward  this,  for  a  man's  devotion  to  the 
church,  and  a  fine  health  resort  to  send  him  to  in  his  old 
age!" 

Pan  Finor  wrote  a  protest  to  the  Bishop  and  the  more 
daring  ones  signed  it.  There  was  a  polite  reply  to  the 
effect  that  Bishops  know  better  than  laymen  what  is  right 
and  what  is  wrong.  Moreover,  no  officials  or  landlords 
had  signed  the  protest,  and  while  Father  Imre  Baczko 
might  have  been  guilty  of  some  slight  indiscretions,  the 
Bishop  would  personally  look  after  him. 

"  Patriotism  covers  a  multitude  of  sins,"  said  Dr. 
Makutchky  when  Pan  Finor  showed  him  the  letter,  and 
then  he  added,  "  It  is  a  crime  to  send  the  old  man  to  Boor 
and  a  greater  crime  to  put  Father  Baczko  in  his  place." 
Pan  Finor  put  his  finger  on  his  lips,  warning  the  doctor. 
"  Walls  have  ears,"  he  whispered.  "  Yes,  walls  have  ears 
but  men  have  no  conscience! "  And  the  doctor  spoke  a 
little  louder  than  usual. 

"  They  will  get  you  yet,  my  fine  doctor.  It  is  a  wonder 
they  haven't  sent  you  to  Nyitra  long  ago,"  Pan  Finor  said 
smiling  ironically. 

"  They  can  have  me  whenever  they  want  me,  but  they 
don't  want  me  yet;  for  governments  are  stupid.  If  I 
were  Pan-Slav  they  would  have  put  me  in  irons  long  ago, 
but  as  I  am  only  Pan-Christian  they  don't  think  me  dan 
gerous.  They  are  mistaken,  aren't  they?  " 


236      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"  Yes,  they  are  mistaken.  You,  my  dear  doctor,  and 
all  the  rest  of  the  suspected  ones  are  as  harmless  as  flies, 
but,  come  to  think  of  it,  flies  are  not  harmless.  You 
are  as  harmless  as  sheep.  I  am  the  only  real  rebel,  and 
the  Salvesh,  although  they,  thank  God,  don't  know  it." 

The  Bishop's  orders  were  the  Bishop's  orders  and 
Father  Kalman  was  going  to  Boor.  He  was  celebrating 
high  mass,  his  last  mass,  and  the  voices  of  the  singers 
quivered  and  the  responses  were  only  half  audible,  for 
when  he  unveiled  the  great  mystery  and  uplifted  the 
Host,  his  friends  were  reminded  of  another  Gethsemane 
and  another  Calvary.  Even  his  enemies  did  not  escape 
the  wave  of  emotion  which  filled  the  church,  and  Father 
Imre  Baczko  was  seen  to  wipe  his  eyes. 

Early  on  Monday  morning  before  the  reapers  went  to 
the  fields  and  the  mountains  seemed  so  near  that  he 
could  almost  touch  them,  Father  Kalman  left  Hraszova. 

"  Thank  God  the  mountains  are  still  blue  and  not  red, 
white  and  green,"  he  thought  as  he  crossed  the  Esplanade, 
and  in  imagination  he  was  again  walking  with  his 
cronies  and  heard  the  swash  of  the  Pan's  leather  breeches 
and  the  cough  of  Moritz  Redlich.  The  birds  were  sing 
ing  as  they  always  sang,  and  again  he  thanked  God  that 
they  had  not  changed  their  tunes  to  please  the  Magyars 
and  confound  the  Slavs.  Their  world  was  still  God's 
world. 

He  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  Jewish  cemetery  and 
stood  for  a  moment  at  the  grave  of  Moritz  Redlich  in 
its  dishonored  corner.  He  smiled  sadly  as  he  saw  the 
overhanging  branches  of  the  plum  tree  weighted  down  by 
the  ripening  fruit,  which  soon  would  would  fall  and  cover 
the  grave  of  his  dear  friend. 

Then  he  went  in  to  the  next  inclosure,  and  knelt  beside 
the  flower  covered  grave  of  the  Pan.  He  noticed  that 
violets  had  been  planted  there.  They  would  be  fragrant 


SANCTI  EXITI  237 

next  spring.  He  stood  long  before  the  grave  of  the 
Pan's  wife,  and  he  could  smell  violets  as  if  it  were  al 
ready  spring.  They  had  gathered  violets  together  he 
and  she,  and  she  had  put  them  into  his  buttonhole ;  then 
there  were  no  more  violets  but  incense.  When  he  visited 
the  Pan  after  she  was  dead  he  looked  at  her  picture,  he 
never  dared  look  at  her,  while  she  was  living,  for  fear  he 
would  smell  violets.  It  did  not  matter  that  he  smelled 
them  when  he  looked  at  her  portrait  after  she  was  gone. 

Turning  abruptly  away  he  went  to  the  Catholic  ceme 
tery  and  made  the  stations  of  the  cross  on  his  knees, 
though  the  grass  was  wet  from  the  heavy  dew.  Before 
the  huge  crucifix  he  prostrated  himself  and  prayed  fer 
vently,  and  when  he  looked  up  he  thought  he  saw  an 
encouraging  smile  on  the  paindrawn  face  of  the  Christ, 
as  if  He  were  saying :  "  Brother,  do  not  fear,  Boor  is  a 
high  place  and  better  than  a  Bishopric  for  such  as  you 
and  I." 

When  Father  Kalman  had  gone  down  the  hill  he 
thought  he  heard  the  Man  on  the  cross  say : 

"  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  persecute  you  and 
shall  say  all  manner  of  evil  against  you  for  my  sake." 
And  he  doubted  his  ears.  But  as  he  passed  the  Bashany- 
itza  the  voice  repeated :  "  Yes,  that  is  what  I  said. 
Blessed  are  ye." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR:  THE  HARVEST 
HOME 

ONE  of  the  reasons  for  the  Pan's  dislike  of  sugar 
beets  was,  that  harvesting  them  was  like  "  pulling 
rats  out  of  their  holes."  He  used  to  say  to  Moritz  Red- 
lich,  "  I  grant  you  that  somebody  has  to  raise  sugar 
beets,  but  can  you  imagine  them  woven  into  a  harvest 
wreath?  " 

Moritz  Redlich  was  not  a  poet,  and  he  never  danced 
when  the  harvesters  carrying  the  Vyenetz,  brought  home 
the  last  load  of  grain.  He  objected  to  beets  on  more 
prosaic  grounds,  because  beet  tops  instead  of  plums  were 
used  in  making  brandy;  so  he  agreed  with  the  Pan  that 
a  harvest  wreath  of  sugar  beets  would  not  be  a  thing  of 
beauty,  yet  he  insisted  that  a  sheaf  of  wheat  was  not  half 
as  beautiful  as  a  basket  full  of  blue  plums.  Therefore 
wheat  versus  plums  was  one  subject  of  those  debates 
now  forever  ended,  or  perhaps  resumed  in  another  world, 
unless,  for  the  sake  of  eternal  peace,  debates  are  pn> 
hibited  there. 

Christina  did  not  wish  the  harvest  home  or  Vyenetz 
as  the  peasants  called  it,  to  be  celebrated  this  year.  She 
had  always  frowned  upon  it,  having  her  doubts  as  to 
the  dances,  the  drinking,  the  loving  and  fighting  which 
followed,  and  now  that  the  Pan  was  gone  she  thought  it 
a  good  time  to  stop. 

The  harvesters  however  did  not  share  her  opinion. 
"  What  would  the  Pan  up  there  in  Heaven  think  about  us 
if  we  did  not  celebrate  a  harvest  like  this?  Only  twice  in 
the  memory  of  our  generation  was  there  such  a  harvest. 


THE  HARVEST  HOME  239 

And  then  if  the  Mlada  Panka  remembered,"  the  foreman 
said,  "  the  Pan  gave  us  two  barrels  of  wine,  and  Marisha 
baked  cakes  the  whole  week  and  there  were  not  too  many, 
and  the  Gypsies  played  till  morning,  and  the  Pan,  God 
rest  his  soul,  danced  every  turn  and  drank  a  little,  just  a 
little,"  the  old  peasant  said  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
"until  Panyi  Velcomoshna  had  to  have  him  carried  to 
bed. 

"  Verily,  Mlada  Panka  Christina,  if  there  is  no  Vyenetz 
after  such  a  harvest  as  this,  the  Pan  will  turn  over  in 
his  grave.  The  Pan  was  a  great  man  for  festivals;  he 
thought  that  wine  was  made  for  drinking  and  women  for 
embracing,  and  with  all  that  he  was  a  God  fearing  man 
as  everybody  knows,  now  wasn't  he,  Mlada  Panka? " 
he  asked  ingratiatingly. 

The  harvesters  male  and  female  agreed  with  their  fore 
man,  and  Sonya  agreed  also,  and,  what  was  worse,  the 
Mlady  Pan  Hruby,  as  they  now  called  Yanek,  was  in 
perfect  accord  with  them.  Indeed  the  Mlady  Pan  had 
grown  to  be  an  important  personage  since  the  death  of 
Pan  Yan  Szenitzky.  Slowly  and  reluctantly  he  accepted 
the  place  made  for  him  by  Fate  or  Sonya,  and  the  two 
seemed  one,  and  it  was  his  yea  and  nay  which  governed 
things,  and  governed  even  his  father,  although  Christina 
said  that  Sonya  could  wind  both  of  them  around  her 
little  finger,  and  the  thought  was  very  bitter. 

It  was  no  secret  that  Yanek  and  Sonya  were  going  to 
be  married,  and  how  could  it  be  a  secret,  for  Sonya's 
love  was  not  of  the  secret  kind.  It  was  a  great  joy  to 
Stephan  Hruby  who  had  forgiven  his  son's  fiasco  as  a 
preacher  in  the  light  of  this  event,  but  there  were  two 
women  who  were  not  very  happy  over  the  prospect.  One 
of  them  was  Yanek's  mother  who  could  not  understand 
how  God  could  make  such  a  mistake,  when  she  had  been 
praying  that  it  might  be  Christina.  The  other  woman  did 


240      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

not  know  why  she  was  unhappy  about  it,  and  would  not 
have  confessed  the  fact  even  to  herself. 

Yes,  there  was  going  to  be  a  Vyenetz  after  all,  and  the 
memory  of  it  was  to  linger  for  many  years,  not  because  it 
was  merrier  than  those  which  preceded  it,  in  fact  it 
wasn't,  for  the  times  were  out  of  joint,  and  the 
Pan  was  not  there  to  lead  the  dancers  and  serve  the 
first  cup,  and  pinch  the  red  cheeks  of  the  young  women, 
and  feed  cake  to  the  youngsters  till  they  nearly  burst. 
There  were  other  reasons  which  made  this  Vyenetz 
memorable. 

They  had  worked  hard  the  day  before,  and  all  the 
wheat  was  in  but  one  load  which  was  made  up  of  the 
choicest  grain,  the  most  golden  and  the  fattest  bundles. 
The  Sun  rose  as  usual  that  day  but  the  workers  did  not 
stir.  They  slept  till  the  feather  beds  grew  too  warm  for 
them,  and  after  breakfast  there  was  much  primping,  and 
lacing  of  the  most  picturesque  prutsliks,  the  putting  on  of 
innumerable  plaited  skirts,  the  tying  of  gorgeous  aprons 
and  riotously  colored  neckerchiefs.  The  men  lingered  as 
long  as  the  women,  for  to  put  on  the  tight  blue  Sunday 
breeches  took  time,  ribbons  had  to  be  tied  exactly  alike  on 
both  legs,  and  the  brass  buttons  had  to  shine,  the  em 
broidered  shirt  sleeves  must  hang  in  the  right  folds,  the 
boots  had  to  be  polished  and  each  jaunty  little  hat  was 
decorated  in  grasses,  flowers  and  feathers. 

The  tallest  among  the  reapers  was  chosen  as  the  bearer 
of  the  Vyenetz.  The  women  plaited  it  after  they  had 
adorned  themselves,  and  a  king's  crown  was  never  as 
magnificent,  nor  a  bishop's  miter  never  so  high,  and 
neither  of  them  as  heavy.  It  was  twice  as  high  as  Pavel 
Shimko's  head,  bigger  than  the  big  church  bell,  and  it 
was  made  of  wheat,  rye  and  barley,  the  heads  of  the  ripe 
grain  overlapping  in  alternate  rows.  Autumn  flowers 
of  many  hues  and  gaudy  ribbons  were  plaited  in,  and  fell 


THE  HARVEST  HOME  241 

over  the  shoulders  of  the  proud  youth,  his  face  almost  hid 
by  them. 

Thus  they  went  out  to  get  the  last  load  of  grain  and 
David  with  his  warriors  and  the  Levites  did  not  go  after 
the  Ark  with  more  unction,  and  if  they  were  half  as 
resplendent  the  Old  Testament  has  failed  to  mention  it. 
The  huge  cart  had  been  driven  into  the  creek  and  washed 
and  scrubbed,  the  high  wheels  with  their  dusty  spokes  and 
glistening  ribs  were  polished,  and  the  iron  parts  rubbed 
free  from  rust.  Then  the  peasants  wound  flowers  and 
grain  around  the  wagon,  in  and  out  among  the  spokes  and 
all  along  the  far  stretching  tongue.  The  horses,  the  best 
horses,  were  hitched  to  it,  and  they  too  knew  it  was  the 
Vyenetz;  for  Martzin  Stefechek  and  his  assistant  had 
curried  them  as  they  were  curried  but  once  a  year.  The 
harness  had  been  greased  and  the  metal  disks  had  been 
burned,  till  each  shone  like  a  star,  and  the  brasses  tinkled 
against  each  other  like  bells. 

So  they  marched  to  the  fields,  singing  as  they  always 
sang,  only  when  they  passed  the  cemetery  they  grew  sud 
denly  silent,  the  song  died  upon  their  lips  and  they  walked 
solemnly  all  the  length  of  the  iron  railing  of  the  Prot 
estant  cemetery,  where  the  Pan  slept  underneath  the 
acacia  tree.  When  the  last  marcher  had  passed  beyond 
its  boundaries  they  began  to  sing  again,  and  the  lads  told 
the  lassies  now  that  the  Pan  could  not  pinch  their  cheeks 
they  must  do  it,  for  pretty  cheeks  must  be  pinched,  and 
there  was  much  laughter  and  bantering  and  jests  which 
the  Mlada  Panka  Christina  would  not  have  liked  to  hear, 
"  for  she  is  awfully  religious." 

When  they  came  to  the  stubble  field  where  the  last  load 
was  waiting  to  be  taken  home,  they  ate  their  midday  meal 
before  their  solemn  task  began.  The  red  and  yellow  pots 
were  emptied  of  their  bean  soup,  bacon  and  sausage.  The 
big  chunks  of  rye  bread  were  brought  out  and  the  younger 


242      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

ones  were  warned  not  to  eat  too  much,  for  the  big  feast 
would  come  at  sundown  and  they  must  leave  room,  lots 
of  room. 

"  They  were  never  stingy  at  the  Pan's  house,  and, 
Chvala  Bohu,  the  Mlada  Panka  Sonya  is  bossing  the  job, 
and  she  gives  with  both  hands.  Not  that  the  Mlada 
Panka  Christina  is  stingy,  no,  she  is  a  good  friend  to  the 
poor.  If  you  are  in  trouble  you  can  always  count  on 
her,  but  not  when  you  want  to  be  gay. 

"  As  for  drink  she  would  just  as  soon  give  you  poison 
as  Palenka.  She  is  too  awfully  religious!  It  isn't  good 
to  be  too  religious,  but  Mlada  Panka  Sonya  is  just  right," 
the  young  women  were  saying. 

When  they  had  eaten  and  the  old  men  and  women  had 
taken  a  nap  and  the  young  women  had  gathered  fresh 
flowers  for  their  corselets  and  the  young  men  had  pinned 
some  on  their  waistcoats  and  had  done  other  things  which 
Christina  would  not  approve,  causing  the  young  women 
to  rub  their  cheeks  in  feigned  indignation,  the  ceremony 
of  loading  the  grain  began.  The  foreman  laid  the  first 
bundle,  and  one  by  one  they  followed  in  proper  rank, 
and  when  it  was  all  loaded  the  towering  cart  looked  as  if 
each  bundle  were  mitered  to  the  other,  and  was  as  straight 
on  all  sides  as  if  a  level  had  guided  the  eye. 

The  crowned  youth  walked  ahead,  straight  and  stiff  as 
a  drum  major,  the  young  women  followed,  and  on  top  of 
the  horses  sat  the  drivers,  Martzin  Stefechek  and  his 
underling,  who  did  not  sit  quite  straight  enough  or  guide 
his  horse  right,  and  was  in  for  a  continuous  scolding,  for 
Martzin  Stefechek  was  master  of  the  horses  now  that 
Stephan  Hruby  had  been  promoted.  The  foreman  sat  on 
top  of  the  load  and  acted  as  master  of  ceremonies. 

At  the  edge  of  the  town  the  band  met  them,  a  sorry 
enough  musical  aggregation,  for  the  Gypsies,  the  real 
musicians,  were  between  two  fires  since  the  Pan-Slav  agi- 


THE  HARVEST  HOME  243 

tation.  If  they  played  for  the  Slovaks  the  Magyars 
would  boycott  them  and  vice  versa.  However  as  the 
Magyars  had  much  more  money  and  spent  it  freely  the 
Gypsies  were  loyal  to  them  and  the  Slovaks  had  to  recruit 
a  band  from  among  themselves.  A  clarionet,  a  trom 
bone,  a  horn  and  a  violin  were  the  musical  instruments, 
but  there  was  not  much  music  in  them  and  fortunately 
not  much  was  needed ;  just  enough  to  dance  by  and  to  sing 
with  and  what  the  band  lacked  in  sweetness  and  har 
mony  the  singers  supplied ;  for  it  was  ever  so  much  easier 
to  sing  than  to  play,  especially  as  the  players  had  stif 
fened  their  fingers  swinging  the  heavy  scythe  and  had 
never  before  played  together. 

Sonya,  Yanek  and  Stephan  Hruby  and  his  wife  met 
the  reapers  at  the  entrance  to  the  Pan's  domain,  and  the 
foreman  uncovered  and  made  a  long  speech.  He  had  a 
hard  time  beginning,  although  it  was  the  same  speech  he 
had  used  every  year,  yet  it  was  always  addressed  to  the 
Pan  and  was  full  of  reference  to  his  nobility  of  char 
acter,  his  pet  hobbies  and  his  generosity.  Now  the  fore 
man  stumbled,  addressing  Sonya  first  and  when  the 
gender  became  inconvenient  he  addressed  Yanek,  and 
the  women  began  to  titter.  When  at  last  he  finished  and 
presented  the  Vyenetz  to  the  Mlada  Panka  Sonya,  she 
asked  Yanek  to  receive  it,  for  it  was  much  too  heavy  for 
her.  There  were  many  cheers  and  sly  allusions  as  to  what 
would  happen  next  year,  and  then  Yanek  put  the  Vyenetz 
upon  his  head  and  wore  it  awhile,  after  which  he  opened 
the  dance  with  one  of  the  young  women  as  his  partner. 

Sonya  shared  in  the  festivities  only  as  hostess,  and 
Marisha  reported  to  the  other  servants  that  there  had 
been  something  like  a  quarrel  between  the  two  sisters, 
and  that  Sonya  had  insisted  that  Christina  should  do  the 
honors,  and  the  latter  had  refused,  and  had  called  her 
sister  heartless,  and  Sonya  had  called  her  bigoted,  and 


244      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

they  had  not  spoken  to  each  other  since,  and  the  Mlada 
Panka  Christina  had  gone  about  with  swollen  eyes,  and 
was  now  on  a  visit  at  Babushka's  house  so  that  she  would 
not  have  to  hear  the  music  and  the  singing. 

Yes,  indeed,  it  was  a  merry  day,  pretty  nearly  as  gay 
as  when  the  last  rich  harvest  was  gathered.  The  young 
men  sang  to  the  musicians  who  tried  to  catch  the  tune 
and  play  it  to  the  dancers,  and  it  was  round  upon  round, 
and  the  wine  was  passed  between  the  short  pauses,  and 
the  health  of  Mlada  Panka  Sony  a  and  Yanek  Hruby  was 
drunk  so  often  and  so  many  long  years  wished  them, 
that  they  were  assured  of  living  to  thrice  the  age  of 
Methuselah. 

The  old  men  and  women  walked  about  solemnly  and 
thought  of  the  altered  times,  and  sighed  when  they  spoke 
of  the  Pan;  but  they  too  lost  their  solemnity  when  the 
wine  had  made  a  few  rounds,  and  the  whirling  dancers 
came  to  a  stop  only  when  Marisha  appeared  with  a  huge 
wooden  spoon  in  her  hand,  announcing  that  supper  was 
ready. 

None  are  such  tyrants  as  those  who  serve,  and  Marisha 
used  her  huge  spoon  as  a  czar  uses  his  scepter,  and  she 
paid  many  old  scores  by  giving  mostly  skin  and  bones  to 
those  who  were  under  her  displeasure,  while  she  amply 
rewarded  those  who  were  her  favorites,  and  no  one 
escaped  her  sharp  tongue.  After  the  supper  the  dancing 
began  again  and  the  servants  from  other  houses  came  and 
many  a  burgher's  son  and  court  clerk  joined  the  merry 
throng,  upon  which  a  rich  harvest  moon  shone  approv 
ingly.  Perhaps  the  moon  himself  was  under  the  spell  of 
the  season,  for  he  looked  well  fed  and  merry  and  there 
was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  as  if  to  say :  "  Just  go  to  it,  have 
as  much  fun  as  you  can  for  the  times  are  changing  and 
who  knows  whether  we  will  see  another  Vyenetz  cele 
brated  in  Hraszova?  " 


THE  HARVEST  HOME  245 

The  moon  was  in  a  gracious  mood  and  the  young 
maidens  said  that  he  was  to  blame  for  the  magic  touch 
which  permeated  everything  and  none  escaped  it. 

There  was  magic  in  the  golden  dust  which  rose  from 
the  barn  floor  which  the  dancers'  feet  relentlessly 
pounded,  it  was  in  the  sharp,  panting  breath  of  men  and 
maidens,  and  was  enhanced  by  the  candles  which  flickered 
in  the  lanterns,  whose  feeble  light  became  one  with  the 
golden  gleam.  There  was  magic  on  the  bridge  which 
spanned  the  river,  and  it  danced  upon  the  wavelets  raised 
by  the  current  and  the  gentle  wind.  Yes,  it  was  magic, 
magic  as  old  as  the  garden  of  Eden,  and  the  young 
people  forsook  the  dancing  floor  and  sought  each  other 
under  the  trees,  here  and  there.  By  twos  and  twos  they 
wandered  about  aimlessly,  it  seemed  to  the  lookers  on, 
but  they  sought  a  way,  a  golden  way.  Some  of  them 
found  it,  others  lost  it;  some  of  them  came  back  with 
their  faces  shining,  and  others  with  tears  in  their  eyes. 

Yanek  and  Sonya  did  not  escape  the  magic  of  the 
moon,  and  they  were  drawn  away  by  it,  away  from  the 
dancers  and  on  with  the  dreamers.  Together  they  lis 
tened  to  the  slow  murmur  of  the  river  and  breathed  in 
the  rich  odors  of  ripening  fruit,  and  the  moon  said  to 
them,  "  the  world  is  made  for  lovers  "  and  they  took  the 
moon  at  his  word.  Close  together  they  walked,  across 
the  orchard  and  along  the  river's  bank  and  they  heard 
the  harvesters  singing  as  they  went  home,  the  work  of 
the  year  and  the  joy  of  the  day  ended. 

Sonya's  kisses  were  on  Yanek's  lips  and  forgetful  of 
all  else  he  yielded  himself  to  the  joy  of  the  moment;  then 
something  whispered  to  him  and  tried  to  waken  him  to 
earth.  "  You  are  accepting  a  prize  without  labor  and 
without  striving,"  that  something  was  saying,  and 
strangely,  the  reproof  came  from  across  the  sea.  "  It 
isn't  just  fair.  What  would  your  fellow  students  say  and 


246      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

your  old  teachers?  What  of  your  professions  and  what 
of  your  dreams  of  the  Kingdom  and  your  helping  bring 
it  to  Earth?" 

Instinctively  Sonya  divined  his  thought,  and  told  him 
of  the  work  which  needed  to  be  done,  and  how  much 
more  he  could  do,  being  the  Pan  and  having  direction  of 
the  men,  and  there  was  still  their  beloved  Slovakland  to 
be  redeemed  from  the  oppressors.  She  threw  herself 
into  his  arms  and  said  she  was  his  Sonya,  and  how  could 
she  live  without  him?  He  kissed  her  again  and  again 
and  tried  to  silence  the  voice  within  him,  by  saying  to 
himself,  "  It  is  God's  will." 

Yet  he  knew  it  was  not  God's  will,  and  he  heard  Chris 
tina  asking  him  whether  the  bit  hurt  and  whether  his 
heart  sang,  and  he  felt  the  bit  pulling  at  his  mouth,  and 
the  song  in  his  heart  had  in  it  a  discordant  strain ;  yet  he 
was  saying  to  himself,  "  it  is  God's  will,  it  is  God's  will. 
He  knew  he  loved  Sonya  as  a  man  ought  to  love  a 
woman,  as  no  man  ever  loved  a  woman  before;  still  he 
thought  he  had  reached  the  goal  too  soon,  and  it  was 
not  the  goal  for  which  he  had  striven,  or  the  one  marked 
out  for  those  runners  who  are  running  for  their  king. 

They  had  turned  by  the  Baron's  house  and  were  walk 
ing  along  the  deserted  street.  The  little  isbas  looked 
large  under  the  moon,  and  the  church  steeple  touched  the 
stars;  only  the  big  smokestack  of  the  deserted  brewery 
cast  a  shadow  over  them  in  their  walk  to  Paradise.  They 
came  to  the  Pan's  house  and  Yanek  pointed  out  the 
window  where  he  had  seen  her  hand  opening  the  shutter 
the  morning  after  his  arrival  from  America,  and  he  con 
fessed  to  having  thrown  a  kiss  to  her  window  the  night 
he  came  home  from  Vavra's;  and  she  told  him  how  she 
had  loved  him  from  the  first  and  how  sweet  was  the  kiss 
he  had  given  her  the  morning  after  the  terrible  storm. 

With  his  arm  around  her  they  passed  through  the  gate 


THE  HARVEST  HOME  247 

and  toward  the  house  to  which  he  had  come  not  two  years 
before  with  a  different  dream  and  a  different  hope. 
Sonya  was  joyously  prattling,  planning  for  the  days  so 
soon  ahead  of  them,  the  wonderful  days!  They  still 
heard  the  reapers  singing  but  their  songs  were  faint  and 
distant  upon  the  still  and  golden  night.  Then  suddenly 
their  dream  was  shattered  and  the  moon  lost  its  magic. 
Sonya  called  out,  "Who  is  there?"  She  had  heard 
footsteps  and  she  trembled,  and  Yanek  drew  her  closer 
to  him. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Mlada  Panka,  it  is  only  I,"  and 
a  man  stepped  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  wall.  "  It  is  I, 
Mlada  Panka,  Ferencz,  don't  you  know.  Ferencz,  the 
Judge's  clerk?  I  have  news  for  you,  bad  news,"  he 
whispered,  "  no  one  must  know  that  I  have  been  here. 

"  No,  I  must  not  go  into  the  house,  I  must  tell  you 
here.  A  warrant  for  the  Mlady  Pan  Hruby  came  from 
Budapest  this  evening.  I  opened  the  mail.  The  Judge, 
thank  God,  has  an  attack  of  the  asthma  and  was  not  in 
the  office."  He  told  them  that  the  charge  was  treason  and 
that  he  would  advise  an  immediate  flight  to  America. 
He  could  hold  back  the  warrant  for  twenty-four  hours, 
perhaps  a  little  longer  if  the  Judge's  asthma  should  be  a 
little  worse  than  usual.  "  Treasonable  activities,"  was 
the  charge. 

Sonya  was  as  one  paralyzed.  She  held  Yanek  in 
her  arms  and  wanted  to  defy  the  Judge  and  the  De 
partment  of  Justice  in  Budapest,  but  she  began  to 
realize  the  hopelessness  and  the  selfishness  of  her  desire, 
and  together  they  went  to  Yanek's  home  and  wakened 
his  parents.  No  candle  was  lighted  and  in  the  dark  they 
packed  his  bag.  The  horses  were  harnessed  by  Stephan 
Hruby,  and  a  little  after  midnight  he  and  Yanek  started. 
Sonya  clung  to  him  and  she  and  his  mother  drove  with 
them  as  far  as  the  village  of  Szotina.  The  two  women 


248      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

walked  home  together  under  the  fading  moon  and  mother 
Elzabetha  was  comforting  Sonya.  "  My  daughter,  you 
will  go  to  him,  but  I  shall  stay  here."  Then  the  younger 
one  threw  herself  upon  the  other's  breast  and  they  both 
wept,  and  the  moon,  the  cheerful,  happy,  careless,  magic 
harvest  moon  slipped  away  into  the  dark,  while  Yanek 
was  leaving  home — but  no,  Yanek  was  going  home. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE:  THE  REVEREND 
JOHN  HRUBY 

"TT7HEN  may  I  go  to  my  desk,  Annenka?"  the 
VV  Reverend  John  Hruby  somewhat  timidly  asked 
his  housekeeper,  who  ruled  him  with  dust  cloth  and 
scrubbing  brush  and  was  never  ready  to  relinquish  them, 
once  she  had  gained  a  foothold.  She  was  down  upon  her 
knees,  sprawling  over  the  already  spotless  floor,  and  con 
tinued  her  vigorous  exercise,  unheeding  his  appeal. 

"  Do  you  think  you  will  ever  finish  cleaning  this 
house?"  he  asked  impatiently.  She  rose  slowly  to  her 
feet,  carrying  her  implements  of  warfare  with  her,  and 
opening  the  window,  shook  her  dust  cloth  at  the  offend 
ing  smokestacks,  as  she  said  in  her  most  acid  tone,  "  I 
will  finish  cleaning  when  the  mills  stop  blowing  soot  and 
cinders  into  the  house."  She  closed  the  window  with  a 
bang  and  locked  it  with  a  vicious  jerk.  "  I  throw  out  a 
pint  of  dirt  and  the  mill  spits  in  a  bushel."  If  steel 
mills  were  sensitive,  this  particular  one  would  have  felt 
hurt  the  way  Annenka  glared  at  it  when  she  made  that 
remark.  Annenka  hated  the  mills  more  than  she  hated 
the  devil,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal,  for  she  was  a 
very  pious  woman  and  in  her  church  they  had  never 
ceased  to  believe  in  his  Satanic  Majesty. 

Availing  himself  of  the  opportunity  afforded  by 
Annenka's  shaking  the  dust  cloth  at  the  open  window,  the 
Reverend  John  Hruby  took  possession  of  his  desk, 
planted  his  feet  firmly  on  the  floor  and  began  writing  his 
sermon.  The  ruler  of  his  little  universe  was  about  to 
leave  the  study,  when  he  sent  after  her  a  parting  shot. 

249 


250      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"  What  will  you  do  when  you  get  to  Heaven, 
Annenka?  " 

"  I  will  find  plenty  to  do,"  she  replied,  viewing  the  floor 
with  her  bird  like  eyes,  which  magnified  every  speck  of 
dust  to  the  size  of  a  mountain,  "  if  you  should  get  there 
first,  for  you  are  a  very  untidy  person.  Just  look  at  the 
dirt  you  brought  in  on  your  shoes!  "  She  fell  upon  her 
knees  again  and  began  scrubbing  around  his  chair,  and 
if  he  had  not  delivered  his  ultimatum  in  no  uncertain  tone, 
she  would  have  lifted  his  feet  and  scrubbed  under  them. 

Annenka  having  found  her  "  second  wind  "  as  it  were, 
the  minister  knew  that  it  was  hopeless  to  try  to  dissuade 
her  from  stopping,  short  of  complete  victory.  Anyway, 
writing  sermons  was  very  difficult  when  he  was  com 
pletely  wrapped  up  in  things  which  concerned  himself;  so 
holding  the  position  he  had  gained  at  his  desk,  he  en 
gaged  her  in  conversation. 

In  spite  of  the  diminutive  to  her  name  there  was  noth 
ing  delicate  or  dainty  about  her  person,  and  she  was 
neither  young  nor  pretty.  She  had  been  called  a 
"  lemon  "  by  one  of  the  most  Americanized  of  John 
Hruby's  congregation,  who  had  come  to  consult  with 
him  about  performing  a  marriage  ceremony.  He  had 
not  cleaned  his  boots  to  her  satisfaction  (no  one  could) 
and  she  had  unmercifully  scolded  him.  He  retorted  by 
calling  her  a  "  lemon,"  and  never  before  was  American 
slang  more  justified,  for  the  one  word  contained  all  that 
could  be  said  about  Annenka. 

Of  course,  lemons  have  their  virtues,  and  she  was  not 
without  them,  indeed  the  Reverend  John  Hruby  did  not 
know  how  he  could  get  along  without  her,  yet  he  was 
beginning  to  wonder  how  he  could  get  along  with  her,  for 
the  parsonage  was  being  fitted  up  for  Mrs.  Hruby,  and 
that  was  the  reason  he  engaged  Annenka  in  conversation 
instead  of  writing  his  sermon. 


THE  REVEREND  JOHN  HRUBY  251 

"Annenka,  the  paper  hangers  are  coming  this  after 
noon." 

"  Boshe  Muy!"  she  cried  in  dismay,  "what  a  waste! 
The  paper  is  just  as  nice  and  clean  as  it  can  be,  and  the 
men  will  drag  in  all  the  dirt  in  town,  and  they  will  spatter 
paste  over  everything,  and  I  am  just  done  houseclean- 
ing!  Boshe  Muy!  Your  Reverence,  you  have  no  mercy 
on  an  old  woman !  " 

"  Annenka,"  he  replied  jestingly,  "  you  know  you  are 
never  done  housecleaning  and  you  don't  think  I  will  bring 
my  bride  into  the  front  room  with  that  hideous  paper  on 
the  wall." 

A  sad  look  crept  over  her  hard  and  inexpressive  face, 
and  she  glanced  at  the  photograph  standing  on  his  desk. 
He  was  looking  at  it  too,  only  he  seemed  to  be  wrapped 
up  in  it  and  his  lips  were  shaped  for  speech,  as  if  he  were 
bidding  his  love  welcome  to  the  parsonage. 

"What  kind  of  paper  have  you  chosen?"  Annenka 
broke  in  sharply  upon  his  dreams. 

"  Oh  now,  Annenka,  you  wouldn't  expect  me  to  pick 
out  the  paper  without  you,"  he  replied  diplomatically. 
"  The  men  are  coming  this  afternoon  to  pull  off  the  old 
paper,  then  I  want  them  to  paint  the  ceiling.  You  and  I 
are  going  this  afternoon  to  select  the  paper." 

"  I  don't  know  that  it  is  any  concern  of  mine  what 
paper  you  put  on  the  wall,"  she  said.  "  But  I  think,  lots 
of  tulips  would  suit  me  best,  great,  big,  red  tulips,  such 
as  grow  in  Slovakland,  or  roses  climbing  all  over  on 
trellises."  Her  voice  grew  soft  and  as  sweet  as  it  was 
capable  of  being.  "  Those  little  red  roses  such  as  cov 
ered  the  walls  of  our  isba" 

"  We  will  see  about  the  paper,  Annenka,  and  you  know 
we  have  to  buy  furniture.  What  do  you  think  she  will 
like?  "  She  knew  exactly  what  the  Panyi  Velcomoshna 
would  like,  but  she  did  not  know  whether  His  Reverence 


252      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

could  afford  it.  She  wanted  golden  oak  furniture,  cov 
ered  with  plush,  and  a  little  marble  topped  table  and  a 
big  sofa,  and  a  bed  of  shining  brass. 

"  And,  Your  Reverence,  you  must  have  feather  beds ; 
I  know  she  will  want  feather  beds  and  big  bolsters. 
These  hard  American  mattresses  are  no  good." 

There  wrere  ever  so  many  things  which  were  no  good  in 
America,  according  to  Annenka,  and  when  she  began 
telling  of  the  shortcomings  of  the  country  in  which  she 
was  living,  she  continued  indefinitely.  The  air  was  no 
good,  the  water  was  no  good,  and  the  American  children 
— and  the  bread  and  the  meat  were  in  the  same  class. 
John  Hruby  had  ceased  to  argue  with  her,  for  like  all 
Slovak  women,  she  had  seen  only  the  darker  side  of 
American  life. 

She  had  come  over  with  her  husband  from  the  little 
village  of  Szotina,  near  Hraszova,  to  Coalton.  They  ex 
changed  their  isba  and  ten  acres  of  land  for  a  frame 
shanty  and  a  miner's  "  patch."  To  go  from  the  peace  of 
the  land  to  the  strife,  the  struggle  and  the  hubbub  of 
American  industrial  life  was  indeed  new  and  strange,  and 
though  the  newness  wore  off  soon,  the  strangeness  re 
mained.  Beyond  their  "  patch  "  was  another  one  just 
as  drear  and  colorless,  and  that  was  inhabited  by  Italians. 
Annenka  knew  all  about  them,  for  her  father  had  gone 
to  war  in  Italy,  and  he  said :  "  You  can't  trust  the  Ital 
ians  ;  they  will  stick  you  with  a  dagger  every  chance  they 
get,"  and  from  that  time  on  when  she  saw  an  Italian  she 
saw  an  enemy  who  wanted  to  stab  her  with  a  knife. 

Beyond  the  Italians  there  was  another  "  patch,"  and 
another,  and  another,  and  all  sorts  of  people  lived  in 
them,  of  whom  she  had  never  heard.  She  knew  of  Ital 
ians  and  Germans,  Poles  and  Russians,  but  there  were 
Greeks,  Welsh  and  the  Irish,  who  were  the  strongest  and 
the  most  terrible. 


THE  REVEREND  JOHN  HRUBY  253 

"  Dear  me,"  she  used  to  say,  "  how  can  our  good  Lord 
make  so  many  strange  and  bad  people?  " 

Beyond  the  "  patch  "  was  Main  Street  with  its  stores 
and  saloons,  and  these  too  she  learned  to  know;  but  be 
yond  the  stores  were  churches  of  strange  faiths,  and  fine 
streets  with  houses  set  in  gardens,  each  one  of  them  as 
fine  as  the  Pan's  house  in  Hraszova  and  perhaps  finer, 
and  there  were  schoolhouses  which  were  grander  than 
the  churches.  The  people  who  lived  in  the  houses  and 
worshiped  in  those  churches  and  whose  children  went  to 
the  schools  were  all  strangers,  greater  strangers  than  the 
Italians  and  the  Greeks  and  the  rest.  Those  people 
worked  in  the  mine  and  the  big  mill,  and  while  they  ate 
macaroni  and  outlandish  looking  stews  and  had  queer 
loaves  of  bread,  they  were  working  people,  her  own  kind, 
and  there  was  a  certain  bond  of  fellowship  between  them. 

But  these  other  people,  the  Americans — they  were  the 
master  class,  they  were  somewhat  like  the  Magyars  who 
ruled  them  over  in  Slovakland,  only  the  Americans  were 
much  farther  removed.  She  had  quarreled  with  the 
Magyars  and  had  called  them  bad  names  but  she  liked 
some  of  them.  Though  she  did  not  hate  Americans  as 
she  did  the  Magyars  she  did  not  like  them,  for  she  did  not 
know  them  and  thought  them  unknowable. 

Her  husband  worked  in  the  mine.  "  He  was  a  very 
good  husband,"  she  had  told  John  Hruby.  "  He  never 
beat  me,  not  even  when  he  was  drunk,  but  here  in  Amer 
ica  it  was  different.  After  pay  day  he  was  like  a  crazy 
man.  It  was  in  the  drink,  it  just  made  the  men  crazy. 
He  was  arrested  a  good  many  times  and  it  took  a  lot  of 
money  to  get  him  out. 

"  Yes,  these  Americans  were  very  strict  with  the 
Slovaks;  there  were  drunken  Irish  and  Welsh  and  Ger 
mans  but  they  were  allowed  to  stagger  home.  The 
Slovaks  have  no  vote  and  they  seem  so  good  naturedly 


254      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

stupid,  and  they  could  be  scared  to  death  and  they  paid 
their  fines,  and  never  asked  '  is  it  just  and  right '  ? 

[<  Then  there  was  a  strike  and  my  man  sat  around  the 
house  for  weeks  and  the  little  we  had  saved  had  to  be 
taken  out  of  the  bank.  I  was  scared  to  death  when  he 
left  the  house  for  he  was  swallowed  up  by  a  crowd,  and 
I  heard  pistol  shots,  and  brickbats  were  flying,  and  then 
they  brought  him  home  with  a  hole  in  his  head,  and  he 
laid  there  like  dead  and  I  was  all  alone  with  him,  for 
every  one  was  afraid,  and  then  he  died." 

She  had  been  alone  with  him  in  the  shanty  three  days 
and  no  one  had  come  near  her.  No  wonder  her  cheeks 
had  grown  thin,  with  the  color  gone  out  of  them,  and  her 
spirits  drooped,  and  her  tongue  grew  sharp,  and  they 
called  her  a  "  lemon/' 

When  the  Reverend  John  Hruby  had  asked  her  shortly 
after  she  had  taken  charge  of  him  how  she  liked  Amer 
ica,  he  was  shocked  to  hear  her  say  that  she  hated  it. 
"  All  the  women  hate  it,"  she  said.  Yes,  he  was  shocked, 
for  from  the  moment  he  had  come  back  to  America  he 
felt  that  it  was  his  home,  for  Sonya  as  well  as  himself, 
and  everything  he  saw  and  heard  and  tasted  he  asked  him 
self,  "Will  Sonya  like  it?"  and  he  always  answered  his 
question  in  the  affirmative.  He  realized  as  he  had  not 
before  his  return  to  Slovakland  that  he  belonged  body 
and  soul  to  America,  and  he  awaited  with  great  impa 
tience  the  time,  now  not  far  distant,  when  he  could  be 
come  a  citizen,  in  fact,  as  he  was  already  in  spirit. 

Naturally  Coalton  had  changed  since  Annenka  came  to 
it  some  ten  years  before.  From  a  small  mid-western  town 
it  had  grown  so  large  that  the  mine  shafts  were  crowded 
by  the  smokestacks  of  the  mill,  Main  Street  stretched 
farther  out  into  the  country,  the  big  stores  absorbed  the 
little  stores  and  encroached  upon  the  residence  section. 
The  lines  between  the  different  "patches"  were  obliterated 


THE  REVEREND  JOHN  HRUBY  255 

and  as  a  final  proof  of  its  progress  the  town  of  Coalton 
moved  westward,  until  it  embraced  the  little  village  of 
Milburn,  the  highly  respectable  village  of  Milburn,  clus 
tering  around  its  college  and  living  with  it  and  on  it  and 
for  it.  Every  year  it  turned  out  a  goodly  number  of 
A.B.-s  and  latterly  a  few  more  B.S.-s  and  several  D.D.-s. 
The  D.D.-s  encouraged  fervent  prayers  for  the  "  beloved 
institution  of  learning  "  and  they  were  the  kind  of  prayers 
that  were  frequently  answered  in  a  very  substantial  way. 

The  town  of  Milburn  did  not  like  to  see  itself  become  a 
part  of  the  soot  and  dirt  of  Coalton.  The  great  elm  trees 
resented  it  and  began  dying  from  the  top,  and  the  retired 
farmers  and  returned  missionaries  and  superannuated 
ministers  resented  it,  but  Coalton  was  growing  and  cared 
nothing  for  elm  trees.  It  despised  retired  farmers  and 
had  little  use  for  returned  missionaries  and  super 
annuated  preachers,  but  strange  to  say  it  liked  the  college 
and  helped  so  generously  with  the  endowment  fund  that  a 
new  gymnasium  was  built  and  also  a  stadium,  and  there 
were  Roman  holidays  for  the  busy  men  of  Coalton  who 
"  boosted  "  everything  from  coal  and  tin  to  football,  and 
incidentally  or  accidentally  the  college. 

John  Hruby  was  forced  to  admit  that  Coalton  was 
bleak  and  dirty  and  vulgar  in  spots,  but  it  was  a  part  of 
America,  his  America,  and  he  accepted  it  as  it  had  ac 
cepted  him,  without  asking  many  questions. 

He  had  been  in  Coalton  over  two  years  as  pastor  of  a 
Slovak  church  which  existed  by  the  grace  of  the  Mission 
Board.  A  tiny  church,  too  plain  to  be  called  ugly,  and 
too  small  to  be  offensive.  It  was  wedged  in  between  a 
towering  Roman  Catholic  church  which  was  really  ugly, 
and  a  smaller  Lutheran  church  which  was  a  great  deal 
uglier ;  fronting  it  was  the  big  tin  mill,  with  its  twenty  or 
more  smokestacks  blowing  black  smoke  and  white  poison 
ous  fumes  into  the  face  of  all  the  churches. 


256      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

He  found  a  timid  flock  of  some  fifty  souls,  who  either 
did  not  like  the  Lutheran  minister,  who  was  too  auto 
cratic  for  them,  or  who  were  God  seekers  by  birth  or  the 
new  birth,  spiritual  kinsmen  of  the  despised  "  Salvesh  "  ; 
Puritans  in  conduct  and  Christian  in  more  than  name. 
When  the  new  minister  came  to  them  and  preached  a 
sermon  which  lasted  only  thirty  minutes,  the  schedule 
time  of  sermons  in  America,  they  told  him  it  was  a  nice 
little  talk,  but  that  a  sermon  is  not  a  sermon  unless  it 
lasts  an  hour  and  a  half.  The  midweek  prayer  meeting 
lasted  two  hours  and  then  there  was  not  time  for 
all  who  wished  to  pray  and  testify  to  the  goodness  of 
God. 

Among  his  parishioners  was  Annenka,  who  after  her 
husband's  death  became  his  housekeeper,  and  she  had 
scrubbed  and  dusted  the  little  parsonage  ever  since. 
When  she  was  not  scrubbing  or  dusting  she  was  in  her 
spotless  kitchen,  where  she  "  lived  and  moved  and  had 
her  being."  She  tolerated  the  minister  in  his  study,  he 
entered  the  parlor  by  her  grace  but  the  kitchen  was  as 
unapproachable  as  Mount  Sinai. 

He  was  sure  that  Sonya  would  like  Coalton,  for  he 
liked  it.  The  merchants  were  kind  to  him  and  called  him 
"  Reverend  Rooby,"  and  the  American  Protestant  min 
isters  had  invited  him  to  their  ministers'  meeting,  where 
every  Monday  morning  they  were  very  human  and 
naively  self -revealing,  where  they  were  vain  and  envious 
and  humble  and  brotherly,  where  they  tried  to  save  the 
world  by  passing  resolutions,  and  endeavored  to  stem  the 
tide  which  had  swept  by  them  twenty-five  years  before. 
They  had  their  doubts  as  to  John  Hruby's  Evangelicalism 
because  when  a  brother  read  a  paper  on  the  "  Menace  of 
the  Roman  Catholic  Church,"  and  made  the  usual  refer 
ences  to  guns  stacked  in  parochial  schools  and  the  danger 
of  the  confessional,  he  criticized  the  paper  severely  and 


THE  REVEREND  JOHN  HRUBY          257 

plead  for  tolerance  and  truth,  which  made  the  reverend 
gentleman  who  had  read  the  paper  very  angry. 

On  the  whole,  however,  he  was  greatly  liked,  for 
although  he  was  a  foreigner  he  was  so  thoroughly  an 
American,  and  it  flattered  them  to  think  that  here  in 
America  a  man  who  had  once  mined  coal  could  rise  to 
be  a  minister.  When  they  talked  to  their  congregations 
of  their  duty  to  evangelize  and  Americanize  the  foreigner, 
they  used  him  as  an  illustrious  example. 

His  real  friends  however  were  outside  the  clerical 
profession.  One  of  the  professors  in  the  college  at  Mil- 
burn  had  taken  a  fancy  to  him,  and  though  Professor 
Carl  Niederstadt  was  born  in  Germany  and  John  Hruby 
was  a  Slovak,  the  old  national  feud  between  Teutons  and 
Slavs  counted  for  nothing  in  this  "  melting  pot "  of  the 
nations,  where,  according  to  Professor  Niederstadt,  a 
super-nation  was  being  shaped  out  of  the  broken  frag 
ments  of  humanity.  He  taught  German  and  French, 
Latin  and  Greek,  and  he  could  have  taught  Italian  and 
Spanish,  had  those  languages  been  in  vogue. 

At  a  pinch  he  could  have  lectured  on  philosophy,  his 
tory  and  English  literature,  but  his  specialty  was  the 
devil,  whose  pedigree  he  had  traced  and  whose  activities 
he  had  tabulated  from  the  time  he  fell  from  Heaven,  till 
he  appeared  so  seductively  in  German  literature,  where 
he  grew  into  the  repellent  tailed,  cloven  hoofed  and  sul 
phurous  Satan  of  the  modern  world,  which  has  almost 
ruled  him  out  of  the  pulpit  and  completely  left  him  out  of 
science ;  yet  who  is  so  desperately  and  wickedly  alive. 

Professor  Niederstadt  knew  all  the  poetry  about  the 
devil  by  heart  and  there  were  folios  of  it!  While 
humorous  and  serious  stories  on  his  favorite  theme  bub 
bled  out  of  him  spontaneously,  the  seeming  levity  with 
which  he  talked  about  Satan  brought  him  in  conflict  with 
the  church  authorities  under  whose  auspices  the  college 


258      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

operated,  for  without  a  real  devil  there  could  be  no  sin, 
and  without  sin  there  could  be  no  atonement.  However, 
he  was  a  brilliant  teacher  and  beloved  by  the  alumni,  in 
fact  everybody  liked  him  and  the  devil  himself  must  have 
kept  a  cool  spot  in  his  burning  Hell  for  his  rotund  and 
not  too  saintly  biographer. 

Professor  Niederstadt  had  married  a  woman  of  New 
England  parentage,  training  and  conscience.  She  be 
longed  to  that  brilliant  group  of  American  women  who, 
freed  from  household  drudgery  by  the  army  of  immi 
grant  servants,  had  thrown  her  energy  into  acquiring  an 
education.  She  was  one  of  the  first  graduates  of  an 
eastern  college  for  women,  which  boasted  of  being  the 
female  Harvard ;  she  had  traveled  abroad  and  while  read 
ing  Hyperion  under  the  shadow  of  the  walls  of  Heidel 
berg  University  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  teacher  who 
had  already  lost  his  heart  to  his  pupil,  and  thus  she 
returned  to  her  New  England  relatives  with  this  German 
husband. 

She  was  as  practical  as  he  was  idealistic  and  that  alone 
kept  them  out  of  the  poor  house,  for  Professor  Nieder 
stadt  knew  about  as  much  of  the  value  of  money  as  a 
two  year  old  baby.  He  was  too  methodical  to  be  a 
brilliant  writer,  and  not  having  the  energy  or  desire  to 
push  his  interests,  the  result  was  that  he  remained  in 
Milburn  college  while  his  students,  knowing  infinitely 
less  than  he,  were  called  to  university  positions  where 
they  made  quite  a  stir  in  their  somewhat  limited  world. 

John  Hruby  knew  that  Sonya  would  like  the  Nieder- 
stadts  because — and  he  had  no  other  reason  than  because 
he  did. 

One  other  man  very  close  to  him  was  a  newspaper 
man,  a  little  younger  than  he,  who  could  write  brilliantly 
about  anything  from  the  description  of  a  boxing  match 
in  the  Opera  House  to  a  report  of  the  erratic  and  popular 


THE  REVEREND  JOHN  HRUBY  259 

Methodist  minister's  sermon;  he  could  fill  the  funny  page 
with  side  splitting  jokes  or  turn  a  sonnet  faintly  reminis 
cent  of  Shelley. 

He  was  baptized  Wayne  and  did  not  know  why,  except 
that  Wayne  rhymed  with  MacBlane,  which  was  his 
family  name,  indicating  that  he  had  inherited  from  his 
sensitive  mother  the  poetic  temperament,  as  well  as  a 
frail  constitution,  for  which  he  had  little  regard,  sitting 
up  till  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  pounding  his  type 
writer  and  filling  yellow  copy  sheets. 

He  drank  black  coffee  and  stronger  things  almost  any 
time  and  all  the  time,  and  he  smoked  incessantly,  in  which 
latter  habit  he  was  encouraged  by  Professor  Niederstadt 
and  the  Reverend  John  Hruby,  who  himself,  smoked, 
causing  much  shaking  of  heads  among  the  officers  of  his 
church  to  whom  smoking  was  a  cardinal  sin. 

The  two  and  a  half  years  since  he  left  Hraszova  seemed 
ten  times  as  long.  Many  letters  went  back  and  forth, 
and  the  postman  of  Hraszova  shook  his  head  at  the  heavy 
letters  he  had  to  carry  to  the  Mlada  Pcmka  Sonya  up  in 
the  Pan's  house. 

Of  course  she  was  coming,  she  wrote  John  Hruby,  but 
one  thing  and  another  detained  her  and  she  did  not  know 
when  she  could  get  away.  The  farm  had  to  be  looked 
after  and  laborers  were  growing  scarce;  Babushka  was 
taken  ill  and  had  no  one  to  take  care  of  her,  so  she  had 
to  be  moved  to  the  Pan's  house,  and  Christina  was  nurs 
ing  her.  There  were  sly  allusions  to  other  suitors,  which 
occasioned  frightful  pangs  of  jealousy  on  this  side  the 
ocean,  which  Sonya  evidently  enjoyed;  at  last  a  letter 
saying  that  she  was  coming.  She  would  have  come 
sooner  or  later,  probably  later;  but  a  pistol  shot  fired 
in  Serajevo,  changed  the  current  of  history,  and  many 
things  happened  sooner,  which  need  not  have  happened 


260      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

at  all.    The  war  cloud  which  had  hung  so  long  over  the 
Balkans  broke,  and  the  storm  swept  on. 

The  Seventieth  Regiment  of  Infantry,  Sonya  wrote, 
went  to  Serbia,  and  only  the  cripples  came  back :  There 
was  another  draft  and  another,  and  all  Europe  was  being 
slowly  drawn  into  the  vortex.  With  the  future  so  un 
certain,  she  was  ready  to  come  at  once,  and  that  was  why 
the  Reverend  John  Hruby  and  Annenka,  were  going  that 
afternoon  to  choose  the  wall  paper  for  Sonya's  room. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX:  PRONOUNCING 
PRZEMYSL 

IF  John  Hruby  could  have  scoured  the  streets  of  New 
York  City  with  soap  and  water  that  May  morning 
before  Sony  a  stepped  upon  them,  and  clothed  every 
ragamuffin  in  splendor;  if  he  could  have  gilded  the  ele 
vated  and  subdued  the  subways,  and  arched  the  skyline 
with  a  burnished  halo;  if  he  could  have  made  the  customs 
inspectors  more  gentle;  above  all,  if  he  could  have 
hastened  the  process  of  docking  the  ship  which  brought 
Sonya,  he  would  have  done  so. 

To  do  one  of  these  things  was  as  impossible  as  to  do 
all  of  them,  and  none  of  them  was  necessary;  for  Sonya 
looked  at  everything  in  a  dazed  delight,  which  she  ex 
pressed  fluently  in  adjectives  of  three  languages,  and  very 
timidly  and  haltingly  in  a  fourth;  for  she  had  studied 
English  to  surprise  her  lover  who  gave  her  small  chance 
to  speak  in  any  language,  much  to  the  amusement  of  her 
fellow  passengers  whose  friends  and  lovers  were  not  so 
demonstrative. 

Ardent  as  he  was  in  receiving  her  he  was  no  less  so  in 
introducing  his  beloved  country,  and  only  the  saints  who 
meet  earth's  pilgrims  in  Heaven  and  show  it  off,  know 
what  a  pleasure  it  was  and  what  a  joyous  task.  He  had 
an  excuse  for  every  jolt,  for  every  marring  incident, 
even  for  the  garbage  cans  which  lined  the  curbing  in 
front  of  the  crowded,  drab  tenements  on  the  East  Side. 
There,  in  a  Settlement  in  which  one  of  his  classmates 
was  scattering  grains  of  salt  to  "  leaven  the  lump,"  they 
were  to  taste  American  hospitality,  and  there  the  bliss 
of  being  wedded  awaited  them. 

In  the  tangle  of  human  beings,  seeming  an  inextricable 

261 


262      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

mass  without  beginning  or  end,  John  Hruby  pointed  out 
to  Sonya,  purpose  and  plan;  and  in  the  roar  of  the  two 
elevated  railroads  which  flanked  the  Settlement,  in  the 
rattle  of  carts,  the  thunder  of  trucks  and  the  shrill  voices 
of  children  he  heard  rhythm  and  melody;  for  only  greed 
and  hate  are  blind  and  deaf ;  love  never  is. 

So,  standing  at  the  window  of  the  room  where  their 
plighted  troth  had  brought  them,  they  looked  above  the 
tenements  which  sheltered  the  broken  fragments  of  races 
and  nations  blown  together  by  the  storms  which  swepr 
the  Old  World,  and  saw  a  great  rainbow.  Though  it 
was  cast  in  steel  they  saw  it  in  all  the  prismal  colors,  and 
though  it  groaned  beneath  the  strain  of  traffic,  they  heard 
through  it  the  promise  of  God  against  another  world 
drenching  flood. 

Tier  upon  tier  of  houses  faced  them,  one  rising  above 
the  other,  then  a  vast  curve  of  the  elevated,  around  which 
the  wheels  ground  and  the  cars  screeched,  and  beyond, 
three  giant  peaks,  wonderful  towers,  bathed  in  the  purple 
of  the  setting  Sun,  as  if  guarding  the  wealth  treasured 
beneath  them  and  behind  them.  With  full  hearts  they 
prayed,  saying :  "  God  is  Good,"  and  not  "  Gold  is  God  "  ; 
for  they  were  lovers,  not  traders  and  hoarders. 

The  children  were  in  a  wild  tumult — upon  the  street 
below,  skipping  the  rope  or  sprawling  upon  the  asphalt, 
dancing  in  merry  tattered  groups  and  singing, — their 
shrill  voices  penetrating  and  almost  drowning  the  noise 
of  the  busy  city. 

A  company  of  soldiers  marched  past,  with  a  flag  at 
the  head  of  the  company.  "  The  Star  Spangled  Ban 
ner  !  "  John  Hruby  said  and  he  stood  erect  saluting  it, 
the  flag  of  their  new  country.  A  surging  crowd  followed 
and  then  a  different  flag  appeared,  and  as  Sonya  rec 
ognized  it,  her  face  clouded;  for  it  was  the  flag  of  Italy 
and  then  the  voices  of  the  newsboys  told  the  story :  "  Italy 


PRONOUNCING  PRZEMYSL  263 

enters  the  war!  Extry!  Extry!"  and  they  waved  their 
papers  in  the  faces  of  the  throng,  and  there  were  more 
flags,  and  more  and  more  marching  men,  the  reservists 
of  Italy  answering  the  call  of  their  country,  and  the  sun 
set  grew  redder  and  redder  and  deepened  into  blood. 
Love  was  not  strong  enough  to  keep  back  Sonya's  tears, 
for  she  had  seen  the  marching  men  go  out  with  banners 
and  Huzzahs  and  Ely  ens,  and  she  had  been  one  of  the 
throng  bidding  them  good-by,  her  face  flushed  by  the 
contagious  enthusiasm. 

"  It  will  be  a  short  war,"  they  said,  "  we  must  teach 
those  Serbian  murderers  a  lesson."  Later  she  saw  them 
coming  back  in  sorry  straggling  groups,  lame  and  halt 
and  blind.  Then  more  men  marched  away  and  still  they 
shouted  and  women  strewed  flowers  on  their  way,  and 
this  time  they  marched  toward  the  east,  for  the  Russians 
were  coming. 

"  We  must  save  the  Fatherland !  "  The  leaders  shouted, 
and  though  there  was  no  Fatherland  to  save,  and  though 
the  men  they  were  to  fight  were  of  their  own  blood  and 
speech,  they  went  out  and  did  as  they  were  bid,  and 
none  of  them  came  back  for  they  were  trampled  down 
by  the  Russians,  swallowed  by  an  encircling  army,  car 
ried  into  a  long  captivity,  and  then  an  awful  black  silence. 

More  and  more  men  went  and  there  was  news  of  vic 
tory,  and  flags  were  waved  again,  and  Elyens  were 
shouted  on  the  streets,  and  again  more  men  marched  out 
and  were  eaten  up  by  the  great  monster. 

John  Hruby  spoke  soothing  words,  trying  to  calm  his 
wife.  He  kissed  away  the  tears  from  her  cheeks  and 
silenced  her  accusations  against  herself  for  leaving  them 
over  there  in  their  great  misery;  and  he  comforted  her 
until  the  room  grew  golden  again,  although  the  sunlight 
had  long  ago  faded  and  they  had  shut  out  the  white 
glare  of  the  street  lights. 


264      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

The  young  husband's  love  could  not  make  Coalton  look 
like  Hraszova,  though  it  made  every  effort  to  look  like 
New  York,  with  its  abridged  White  Way,  and  the  two 
electric  signs  which  nightly  performed  their  antics;  and 
the  movies  only  a  month  or  two  behind  Broadway,  and 
the  styles  about  a  season's  distance  from  Fifth  Avenue. 
No,  Coalton  was  not  like  Hraszova — but  infinitely  better 
with  its  electric  lights  and  telephones,  its  waterworks  and 
paved  streets;  yet  with  its  face  hard  set  against  the 
stranger,  in  spite  of  the  sign  on  the  automobile  high 
way  :  "  Welcome  to  greater  Coalton.  Coalton  grows,  and 
Milburn  knows."  That  was  the  prize  slogan  of  Greater 
Coalton  after  it  had  annexed  Milburn  and  its  college. 
That  slogan  cost  the  Commercial  Club  one  hundred  dol 
lars  and  it  was  worth  the  money.  Of  course  you  were 
welcome  to  Coalton,  to  work  in  its  mills  and  mines  and 
to  patronize  its  merchants,  but  Greater  Coalton  did  not 
care  much  how  you  lived  as  long  as  you  worked  and 
traded  there. 

Like  most  American  towns  Coalton's  most  unsavory 
quarters  were  near  the  railroad  station ;  so  its  back  yards 
and  alleys  stared  at  Sonya  in  their  slovenly,  unwelcom 
ing  way,  and  when  the  hack  driver,  upon  hearing  the 
address  of  his  passengers,  removed  his  cigar  from  his 
mouth  and  spat  upon  the  ground,  not  too  careful  of  aim 
and  distance,  she  shrank  visibly.  The  heat  and  dust  on 
the  way,  the  dense  pall  of  smoke  from  the  mills  nearly 
choked  her.  When  the  hack  stopped  before  the  diminu 
tive  parsonage  in  the  unkempt  street,  her  heart  sank,  and 
when  the  door  was  opened  by  grim  faced  Annenka  who 
did  not  kiss  her  hand — and  looked  so  stern  and  hard,  her 
eyes  fillea,  and  John  Hruby  knew  that  Sonya  and  her 
new  environment  were  not  well  matched,  and  a  great 
doubt  rose  in  his  mind.  No,  it  was  not  like  Hraszova, 
and  Sonya  tried  bravely  to  conceal  her  disappointment 


PRONOUNCING  PRZEMYSL  265 

Ivhich  changed  to  chagrin  when  she  saw  the  highly 
polished  yellow  oak  furniture  and  staring  wall  paper. 

When  her  trunks  came  she  regained  her  accustomed 
gayety,  for  she  had  brought  many  old  Slovak  embroider 
ies  and  curtains,  and  although  Annenka  loudly  protested, 
she  removed  the  purple  plush  portieres  from  the  door 
ways  and  covered  everything  that  was  drapable  with  the 
bright  and  beautiful  coarse  linens  softened  to  ivory  yel 
low  by  age.  Under  her  direction  John  put  up  shelves 
and  screwed  in  hooks  and  soon  pretty  earthen  ware  jugs 
and  plates  adorned  the  walls.  Sonya  very  diplomatically 
appealed  to  Annenka  for  advice  as  to  the  disposition  of 
certain  objects ;  so  although  that  cheerful  person  acted  as 
if  every  nail  were  driven  into  her  bosom,  she  said  with 
a  contented  sigh,  when  all  was  arranged  to  Sonya's  sat 
isfaction:  "  It  is  like  in  the  old  country;  but  we  do  not 
have  enough  feather  beds  and  bolsters."  When  Sonya's 
numerous  feather  beds  and  bolsters  at  last  arrived  and 
towered  one  above  the  other  till  the  brass  bed  -was  not 
visible,  the  gulf  between  the  two  women  was  almost 
bridged. 

The  Panyi  Fararka  which  was  Sonya's  official  title 
as  the  wife  of  the  Pan  Farar,  fitted  into  the  little  church 
as  poorly  as  she  fitted  into  Coalton.  The  unregenerate 
women  of  the  congregation,  those  who  belonged  to  the 
church  because  they  did  not  like  the  Lutheran  pastor, 
said  that  she  was  "  stuck-up."  They  met  her  at  the 
Sewing  Society  a  few  days  after  her  arrival.  They  were 
lavishly  and  loudly  dressed,  and  in  her  hearing,  Mrs. 
Szobka  said  to  Mrs.  Chlopka  "  In  America  it  does  not 
matter  whether  you  are  a  Pan's  daughter  or  a  peasant's ; 
it's  the  clothes  you  wear,"  and  they  looked  somewhat 
disdainfully  at  Sonya's  dress  which  was  so  simple,  and 
told  her  she  must  "  hurry  up  and  not  look  so  much  like 
a  greenhorn." 


266      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

The  saints  of  the  congregation  were  not  so  severe;  al 
though  they  believed  that  she  was  still  unregenerate  and 
made  her  the  subject  of  long  and  urgent  petitions,  both 
public  and  private.  There  were  a  hundred  more  people 
than  usual  in  church  the  Sunday  after  the  bride's  arrival. 
The  service  was  less  like  Hraszova  than  any  of  the  many 
strange  things  she  had  encountered.  The  little  reed 
organ  and  the  choir,  a  very  ill  assorted  group,  facing  the 
congregation;  the  simple  desk  and  the  three  orthodox, 
plush  covered  chairs  upon  one  of  which  sat  her  Yanek  in 
his  black  coat  and  no  Geneva  gown.  It  all  looked  so 
crude,  from  the  strip  of  green  carpet  across  the  platform, 
to  the  minister's  shoes  which  he  had  shined  himself  that 
morning  and  which  seemed  so  obtrusive  without  the  soft 
folds  of  a  Geneva  gown  above  them.  She  noticed  too 
for  the  first  time  that  the  hair  was  thinning  on  his  tem 
ples. 

The  benches  creaked  every  time  a  new  worshiper 
entered  and  sat  down,  and  the  entire  congregation  looked 
around  to  see  who  it  was;  the  choir  sang  an  American 
desiccated  anthem  done  in  Slovak,  and  the  congregational 
singing  was  of  the  militant  Gospel  Hymn  variety. 

"  God  has  strange  and  varied  tastes,"  thought  Sonya 
as  she  recalled  the  church  in  Hraszova,  the  massive  pul 
pit  and  altar,  the  solemn  Psalm  tunes,  the  reverberating 
tones  of  the  new  organ  and  the  begowned  minister  fold 
ing  his  hands  over  his  ample  stomach.  A  disquieting 
thought  began  to  haunt  her  from  which  she  never  quite 
freed  herself — that  Christina  would  have  fitted  herself 
into  this  environment  much  better  than  she  ever  could. 
Strange  to  say,  John  Hruby  had  the  same  thought  as  he 
looked  from  the  pulpit  at  her,  sitting  there  so  stiffly,  and 
apart  from  the  congregation,  like  an  orchid  among  sun 
flowers. 

On  Thursday  evening  she  attended  prayer  meeting  in 


PRONOUNCING  PRZEMYSL  267 

the  small  room  which  served  many  purposes  and  which 
was  crowded  to  suffocation  by  men  and  women  from  the 
mines  and  mills.  She  resented  their  familiarity  with 
the  Almighty  less  than  the  prayer  which  Annenka  of 
fered  in  her  behalf;  for  it  included  a  fervent  petition  to 
make  her  meek  and  humble,  and  in  her  heart  Sonya  dared 
the  Heavenly  Power  to  answer  that  insolent  prayer. 
Needless  to  say  she  did  not  attend  the  next  meeting  or 
the  next,  and  she  remained  unregenerate,  and  a  little 
more  aloof  and  sinfully  proud. 

As  little  as  she  belonged  to  her  husband's  flock  so  little 
did  she  belong  to  the  town  of  Coalton.  Professor  and 
Mrs.  Niederstadt  called  with  Mr.  MacBlane,  but  no 
other  Americans  found  their  way  to  the  parsonage;  and 
while  Mrs.  Niederstadt  was  kind  and  came  as  often  as 
possible,  for  most  of  the  time  Sonya  was  left  alone  with 
Annenka  and  her  small  daily  tasks  and  her  homesickness 
which  increased  daily ;  for  suddenly  all  news  from  Hun 
gary  ceased  coming  and  Hraszova  was  as  if  swallowed 
up  by  an  earthquake.  She  clung  the  more  to  her  hus 
band,  and  the  evenings  when  no  church  work  took  him 
from  home  were  happy  times  for  both  of  them. 

As  the  winter  advanced  there  was  good  reason  for 
Sonya's  non-attendance  upon  the  church  services,  and 
John  Hruby  looked  worried,  and  though  his  prayers 
were  ardent,  his  sermons  were  short  and  without  spirit. 
The  women  were  telling  one  another  that  the  Panyi 
Fararka  had  expectations,  and  in  the  spring,  baby  Chris 
tina  was  born. 

Sonya  was  very  ill,  and  only  a  slender  thread  held  her 
to  life.  A  mist  hung  over  her  spirit,  and  when  she 
saw  the  baby  she  did  not  fondle  it,  but  held  it  far  away 
from  her  and  called  it  Christina  and  said  it  looked  like 
Christina  and  was  Christina's  baby. 

Its  father  wished  to  call  it  Sonya,  but  she  insisted 


268      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

that  it  must  be  named  Christina,  and  she  had  her  way. 
Annenka,  who  loved  babies  but  to  whom  motherhood  had 
been  denied,  cared  for  the  baby  and  loved  it,  and  began 
spoiling  it  by  rarely  leaving  it  out  of  her  arms  when 
she  could  take  time  from  her  other  duties. 

Gradually  the  cloud  lifted  from  Sonya's  mind  but  the 
old  buoyancy  never  returned  and  the  baby  was  still  half 
strange  to  her. 

Another  spring  came  and  the  twenty-third  of  May, 
their  second  anniversary,  and  another  summer  and  win 
ter,  and  still  Coalton  did  not  know,  and  would  not  have 
cared  had  it  known,  that  there  was  an  alien  woman  in 
the  "patch"  suffering  from  lack  of  the  companionship 
of  gentle  women  and  the  refined  surroundings  to  which 
she  was  accustomed,  and  also  from  the  horrors  of  war 
which  were  more  real  to  her  than  to  any  one  else  in 
Coalton. 

She  had  read  in  the  papers  of  invading  armies,  of 
new  victories,  and  new  defeats  on  this  front  and  that 
front,  of  atrocities  and  of  starving  communities.  Her 
bread  was  heavy  before  Mr.  Hoover  ordered  it  mixed 
with  corn  meal,  and  her  coffee  was  bitter  before  sugar 
was  rationed. 

However,  Coalton  gradually  became  conscious  of  its 
alien  population.  America  had  declared  war  upon  Ger 
many.  The  European  disease  crept  across  the  Atlantic 
and  the  war  fever  rose  higher  and  higher.  Coalton  be 
came  conscious  of  belonging  to  a  nation  at  war.  Coalton 
became  conscious  of  herself  in  a  larger  and  nobler  way. 

The  spring  of  1917  brought  a  new  color  to  the  land 
scape,  a  color  which  at  first  turned  the  hearts  of  men 
and  women  sick,  and  yet  as  it  deepened  and  grew  more 
pronounced,  it  became  the  color  of  a  new  pulsing  joy; 
the  nation  was  thinking  and  feeling  in  khaki.  Uncle 
Sam  speeded  the  mines  and  mills,  thrice  as  much  smoke 


PRONOUNCING  PRZEMYSL  269 

came  belching  out  of  the  smokestacks,  and  there  was 
neither  day  nor  night,  neither  Sabbath  nor  feast  day  for 
the  workers.  Thrice  as  much  coal  needed  to  be  dug 
from  the  mines,  for  the  mills,  the  ships  and  the  homes. 
The  national  arm  had  to  be  strengthened,  the  national 
will  needed  to  prevail. 

"  Patriotism  and  not  profit,"  was  the  new  slogan  in 
Coalton.  It  was  the  new  slogan  for  America,  the  Amer 
ica  derided  as  the  land  of  the  dollar  chasers;  and  the 
alien  workers  dug  as  they  had  never  dug  before  and 
stirred  the  fires  and  kept  them  burning  day  and  night. 
The  nation  needed  men  and  money,  and  the  aliens,  the 
"  Hunkies  "  and  the  "  Guinies  "  and  the  "  Roundheads  " 
were  appealed  to  in  the  name  of  a  common  country  and 
a  common  cause.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  Coalton  dis 
covered  its  alien  population  and  discovered  the  little 
church  and  its  pastor,  and  the  ladies  of  Coalton  dis 
covered  Sonya,  and  this  is  the  way  it  happened. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  second  Liberty  Loan  Drive. 
Like  the  men,  the  ladies  of  Coalton  had  responded  to 
their  country's  call.  They  sacrificed  their  meaningless 
leisure,  and  began  to  knit,  and  there  were  meetings  and 
organizations,  and  divisions  and  sub-divisions,  and  each 
of  the  society  leaders  was  given  a  foreign  district  wherein 
to  obtain  subscriptions. 

Mrs.  Springer,  the  banker's  wife,  was  the  chairman  of 
the  Southwest  Division  which  included  the  Slovak 
"  patch."  Mrs.  Springer  and  her  aids  knew  of  the 
"  patch,"  they  had  seen  it  from  a  distance,  they  had 
heard  of  drinking  and  fighting  and  strange  wedding  cus 
toms  there,  but  none  of  the  ladies  of  Coalton  had  seen 
it  at  close  range.  Now  they  were  going  from  house  to 
house,  and  finding  out  that  women  are,  after  all,  women, 
and  that  in  spite  of  the  smoke  and  soot  the  struggle  for 
cleanliness  was  heroic  and  unremittent  in  the  "  patch," 


270      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

and  that  in  the  wretched  houses  for  which  their  husbands 
were  responsible  and  from  which  they  drew  revenue, 
there  were  wonderful  little  nests  built  by  home  loving 
mothers;  and  that  in  spite  of  health  defying  congestion, 
there  were  ruddy  children  and  young  women  who  main 
tained  their  virtue,  and  boys  who  were  growing  into 
good,  if  not  great  men.  Without  their  knowing  it  or 
wanting  it  or  caring,  America  had  crept  into  the  "  patch," 
and  there  the  nation's  call  found  ready  response. 

It  was  Mrs.  Springer  herself  who  came  to  the  parson 
age  door  which  was  opened  by  Annenka  who  showed  her 
into  the  parlor,  where  Sonya  greeted  her  in  very  correct 
English,  but  with  a  decided  accent. 

Mrs.  Springer  stated  her  errand,  and  while  she  was 
talking  about  the  Liberty  Loan  her  mind  was  very  busy 
with  something  else.  "  How  sweet  and  clean  this  little 
house  is,"  she  was  saying  to  herself  while  she  was  me 
chanically  telling  the  needs  of  the  government.  "  And 
what  wonderful  embroideries  these  are  and  what  cun 
ning,  odd  looking  pitchers  and  plates !  " 

While  she  was  telling  what  a  safe  investment  the 
Liberty  Bonds  were  she  was  thinking :  "  What  a  refined 
looking  woman  she  is,  and  what  cute  English  she  speaks, 
and  how  does  it  happen  that  the  women  of  Coalton  have 
never  heard  of  this  perfect  dear  of  a  woman?  " 

There  came  a  very  savory  odor  from  the  kitchen  and 
Mrs.  Springer  rose  to  go  saying :  "  it  must  be  nearly 
noon."  Sonya  invited  her  to  break  bread  with  them,  and 
called  her  husband  from  his  study  and  they  sat  down 
to  a  delicious  luncheon  of  Paprika  Chicken  and  Noodles 
and  fragrant  coffee.  Then  Annenka  brought  in  baby 
Christina,  and  Mrs.  Springer  raved  over  her  daintily 
embroidered  garments;  and,  when  Sonya  subscribed  for 
an  incredibly  large  number  of  Bonds,  Mrs.  Springer  em 
braced  and  kissed  her. 


PRONOUNCING  PRZEMYSL  271 

Suddenly  she  remembered  that  it  was  her  turn  to  lead 
in  the  current  events  discussion,  at  the  next  meeting  of 
the  Literary  Club,  and  she  asked  Mrs.  Hruby  whether 
she  knew  something  of  the  Czecho-Slovaks  (which  she 
pronounced  abominably),  and  when  Sonya  told  her  she 
was  one  herself,  light  began  to  dawn  upon  the  darkened 
mind  of  Mrs.  Springer,  and  she  realized  that  Czecho 
slovaks  are  really  human  beings,  and  not  merely  legs  and 
arms  for  digging  coal  and  melting  ore  and  working  in 
kitchens. 

She  was  still  talking  about  this  thing  and  that  thing 
but  she  was  thinking  how  the  ladies  of  the  Literary 
Club  of  Coalton  would  open  their  eyes  when  she  told 
them  so  many  things  about  Czecho-Slovaks  which  were 
not  found  in  newspapers  and  magazines. 

"  Mrs.  Rooby,"  she  said,  "  I  have  had  a  lovely  time, 
and  won't  you  come  to  our  Red  Cross  meeting?  And  by 
the  way,  Mrs.  Rooby,"  and  her  hand  was  on  the  door 
knob,  "  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  how  to  pronounce 
Przemysl."  And  Mrs.  Springer  went  away  as  if  she  had 
been  lifted  into  the  seventh  Heaven;  for  she  had  been 
told  how  to  pronounce  Przemysl. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN:  STEVE  BURLY 

fTT^HE  ladies  of  Coalton  and  the  women  from  its 
frayed  edges  and  "  patches  "  had  discovered  each 
other.  The  ladies  of  Coalton  reluctantly  acknowledged 
that  much  fine  womanhood  was  concealed  by  shawls  and 
un fashionably  wide  skirts,  and  the  women  of  the 
"  patches  "  were  saying  "  who  would  have  thought  that 
these  'Americansky '  ladies  could  be  so  human."  Yet 
when  Mrs.  Springer  declared  at  one  of  the  Red  Cross 
meetings  that  they  were  all  "  sisters,"  speaking  in  an 
emotional  tremolo  which  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  the 
ladies  of  the  Red  Cross  Society,  she  had  in  mind  a 
sisterhood  with  limited  liabilities. 

Mrs.  Hruby  was  taken,  in  toto.  "  Dear  Mrs.  Rooby  " 
who  could  pronounce  all  those  foreign  names  perfectly, 
and  gave  them  receipts  for  new  and  savory  dishes,  and 
knew  so  many  fancy  stitches,  and  was  a  Czecho-Slovak ! 
"  Imagine  having  a  real  Czecho-Slovak  lady  in  Coalton ! 
Those  wonderful  Czecho-Slovaks  who  are  fighting  over 
there  in  Russia  to  make  the  world  a  decent  place  to  live 
in,"  quoth  the  ladies  of  Coalton's  "  four  hundred."  It 
was  a  little  different  to  be  sure  with  Mrs.  Trnka  and 
Mrs.  Blinka;  they  were  sisters  in  a  very  limited  sense 
indeed. 

Long  before  the  war  Mrs.  Trnka  had  given  up  a  son 
and  Mrs.  Blinka  her  husband  in  one  of  those  under 
ground  trenches  whose  heroic  happenings  never  reach  the 
top  crust  of  the  world,  which  they  helped  make  a  com 
fortable  if  not  a  "  decent  place  to  live  in."  The  fore 
man  of  the  mine  knew  about  it ;  there  was  an  explosion 
in  one  of  the  mine  chambers,  endangering  the  lives  of 

272 


STEVE  BURLY  273 

sixty  men,  and  he  asked  for  volunteers  to  rescue  them, 
and  John  Trnka  and  Martin  Blinka  did  not  count  their 
lives  of  value,  and  did  not  hesitate  long  because  there 
were  a  Mrs.  Trnka  and  a  Mrs.  Blinka,  and  little  Trnkas 
and  Blinkas.  They  descended  into  the  jaws  of  death  and 
never  ascended  to  earth.  The  good  people  of  Coalton, 
reading  the  list  of  those  killed,  thanked  God  that  there 
were  no  Americans  among  the  dead. 

Mrs.  Trnka  and  Mrs.  Blinka  wept,  and  said  it  was 
God's  will,  and  took  in  boarders,  and  washed  and 
scrubbed  and  brought  up  their  little  ones,  and  when  the 
war  broke  out  and  the  government  took  the  men,  their 
sons  went  without  a  murmur;  for  the  Trnkas  and  the 
Blinkas  were  used  to  bearing  children  in  pain,  and  rear 
ing  them  in  poverty,  and  then  giving  them  to  kings  and 
masters,  and  they  never  received  the  recompense  of  a 
patriotic  halo,  crowning  their  sorrowful  faces. 

Sonya  herself  had  not  realized  what  wonderful  women 
these  were  until,  at  a  Red  Cross  meeting,  she  saw  how 
the  American  ladies  edged  away  from  them.  Then  her 
heart  went  out  to  them,  and  she  asked  Mrs.  Trnka  to 
sit  on  one  side  of  her  and  Mrs.  Blinka  on  the  other.  It 
was  "  love  me,  love  my  dog,"  and  as  the  women  of  Coal- 
ton  had  learned  to  love  her  they  loved  her  dog,  in  a  very 
limited  sense  of  course. 

That  night  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hruby  were  going  to  a 
meeting  in  the  Opera  House.  It  was  the  first  big  war 
meeting  to  be  held  in  Coalton,  and  every  patriot  was 
urged  to  be  present.  It  was  an  invitation  with  a  "  big 
stick  " ;  for  it  read :  "  If  you  are  a  patriot  you  will  attend 
this  meeting.  By  order  of  the  National  Council  of  De 
fense."  The  pastors  of  the  foreign  speaking  churches 
were  ordered  to  invite  their  people,  and  sections  of  the 
Opera  Houi>e  were  reserved  for  them,  so  the  one  hun 
dred  and  more  Slovaks  gathered  at  the  church  and 


274      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

marched  there,  the  Stars  and  Stripes  heading  the  proces 
sion.  Perhaps  the  fear  of  war,  and  not  the  love  of  it, 
had  crept  into  the  blood  of  the  peace  loving  Slavs,  for 
they  had  always  been  the  victims  of  races  which  had 
boasted  of  their  civilization,  and  with  fire  and  sword  en 
larged  their  dominion. 

John  Hruby  had  reluctantly  yielded  himself  to  the 
war  spirit,  for  ever  since  he  could  remember  he  had 
heard  men  tell  of  war's  horrors  as  they  sat  around  their 
Palenka,  or  chatted  as  they  rested  from  their  labor. 

When  the  sky  was  red  or  a  comet  flared  across  the 
night,  the  old  Baba  who  lived  at  the  edge  of  the  town 
under  the  drooping,  ghastly  willows,  used  to  prophecy: 
"  Bude  Voyna;3  "  there  will  be  war." 

The  very  word  sent  a  shiver  down  his  spine,  for  it 
meant  invading  Russians  who  raped  the  women  and 
sacked  the  houses;  or  advancing  Hungarians,  who  tram 
pled  the  harvest  under  their  feet;  or  the  coming  of  the 
Prussians,  the  rigorous  Prussians,  who  were  the  last  to 
invade  Slovakland.  Then  too  he  was  trying  to  be  a 
Christian,  and  to  him  that  meant  living  "  at  peace  with 
all  men,"  loving  and  forgiving,  and  the  practice  of  all 
those  gentle  virtues  which  were  so  strongly  emphasized 
by  his  professor  of  theology,  and  which  he  had  echoed 
in  his  sermons.  He  was  a  pacifist  by  nature  and  convic 
tion,  and  he  ceased  to  be  one  when  the  United  States 
declared  war  on  Germany.  "  If  I  lose  my  own  soul/* 
he  said  to  himself,  "  I  will  lose  it,  America  is  worth  even 
the  damning  of  my  soul."  And  he  silenced  his  doubts 
and  quieted  his  fears.  He  often  wondered  if  the  men 
who  so  lightly  bandied  that  phrase  about  "  making  the 
world  safe  for  democracy"  knew  what  it  meant;  but  to 
him  it  was  a  holy  war  on  the  part  of  the  United  States 
— a  war  for  the  whole  human  race,  including  his  own 
people  in  Slovakland. 


STEVE  BURLY  275 

"  Yes,  the  last  and  the  least  of  the  people  will  be  free 
if  the  will  of  the  Allies  prevails,"  he  told  Sonya  who 
shared  his  feelings;  and  probably  no  truer  patriot  at 
tended  that  meeting.  Sonya  however  was  no  pacifist, 
and  the  chance  to  strike  back  at  the  enemies  of  her  coun 
try  gave  her  more  enthusiasm  than  the  larger  hope  of  a 
world  delivered  from  autocracy. 

John  Hruby's  people  were  more  consistently  opposed 
to  war  than  he  was.  Their  convictions  did  not  yield  so 
readily  to  fine  phrases,  and  the  simple  "  thou  shalt "  and 
"  thou  shalt  not "  were  graven  for  them  by  the  finger 
of  God.  Yet  they,  too,  realized  in  a  dim  sort  of  way, 
that  this  war  was  not  like  those  other  wars,  of  which 
they  had  been  the  victims.  There  were  two  appeals  which 
their  pastor  used  with  telling  effect.  First,  they  were 
safely  sheltered  by  the  country  to  which  they  had  come, 
and  where  they  enjoyed  peace  and  bread  and  meat  while 
the  rest  of  the  world  was  in  the  throes  of  war  and  starv 
ing;  and  second,  that  this  country  was  different  from 
other  countries,  it  was  going  to  war  so  that  at  last  the 
world  might  be  forever  delivered  from  the  old  curse  of 
war.  It  was  a  stolid  if  not  a  stupid  devotion  they  ren 
dered,  but  when  once  given  it  was  unyielding  and  im 
movable,  and  they  marched  behind  the  Star  Spangled 
Banner  proudly,  and  with  a  new  sense  of  belonging  to 
this  country  which,  for  the  first  time,  had  taken  cog 
nizance  of  them. 

The  Italians  came  too  with  their  banners  and  their 
band,  and  the  assembling  crowd  cheered  them,  as  all  the 
people  of  the  "  patches  "  blended  for  once  with  the  good 
people  of  Coalton,  who  were  not  thinking  of  Coalton,  or 
of  the  State,  but  of  the  country  and  of  the  world.  The 
bands  were  playing  and  under  the  muscular  direction  of 
the  leader  the  crowd  sang  the  new  and  old  patriotic  airs, 


276      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

and  the  people  of  foreign  speech  and  blood  were  finding 
their  oneness  in  the  stirring  melodies. 

In  one  part  of  the  Opera  House  sat  a  dejected  group, 
the  German-Americans.  They  sang  with  heavy  hearts, 
and  showed  that  they  were  conscious  of  the  critical 
looks  sent  in  their  direction.  They  were  the  first  to 
rise  and  the  last  to  sit  down  when  the  Star  Spangled 
Banner  was  sung  though  they  felt  more  like  being 
silent  in  their  great  grief,  and  had  it  been  a  time  when 
men  dared  be  honest,  they  would  have  wept  aloud, 
which  would  have  been  better  for  them  and  better  for 
the  cause.  Had  this  war  been  one  of  weapons  only,  they 
would  have  helped  to  fight  and  win  it  without  much 
murmur  or  complaint.  They  had  been  immune  to  the 
Kultur  propaganda  of  the  Fatherland — it  was  above  their 
heads,  but  their  hearts  could  be  touched  by  its  songs 
for  they  belonged  to  the  sentimental  Germany  of  years 
ago,  the  Germany  which  had  no  foes,  and  but  few  rivals, 
in  its  rule  over  the  emotions  of  music  loving  humanity. 

None  of  them  ever  dreamed  that  they  would  have  to 
make  the  cruel  choice  between  the  land  of  their  birth 
and  the  land  of  their  adoption.  The  suddenness  as  much 
as  the  bitterness  of  the  struggle  made  it  difficult  for 
them  to  accomplish  the  inner  adjustment  which  was  so 
necessary  to  create  that  unity  which  was  so  dire  a  sur 
prise  to  America's  enemies  and  so  happy  a  surprise  to  its 
Allies.  These  Germans  were  regarded  as  among  Coal- 
ton's  most  substantial  citizens.  A  few  of  the  Germans 
of  Coalton,  and  they  were  men  who  had  come  to  Amer 
ica  since  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  were  caught  in  the 
meshes  of  the  mighty  and  proud  Fatherland,  and  carried 
their  heads  high;  while  in  their  hearts  there  was  bitter 
ness  if  not  treason.  They  had  influenced  the  life  of 
Coalton  but  little,  except  that  they  consistently  stood  for 
"personal  liberty,"  meaning  a  sort  of  license  of  the 


STEVE  BURLY  277 

stomach;  the  older  people  talked  German,  into  which 
they  had  injected  some  colloquial  English,  and  had 
strongly  flavored  the  culinary  calendar  of  the  American 
kitchen  with  Sauerkraut  and  Limburger  cheese,  which 
under  the  stress  of  the  war  changed  their  names  but  not 
their  nature. 

Professor  Niederstadt  sat  on  the  platform  with  some 
of  the  members  of  the  Milburn  College  faculty.  He  had 
hesitated  about  attending  the  meeting  for  he  felt  keenly 
the  hostile  attitude  of  some  of  the  townspeople;  but  his 
wife  urged  him  to  go;  for  the  eyes  of  the  County  Chair 
man  of  the  National  Council  of  Defense  were  keen  and 
his  absence  would  be  noted  and  misconstrued.  His  at 
titude  toward  the  war  was  not  different  from  that  of  a 
large  number  of  cultured  Germans,  who  had  found  a 
place  in  our  educational  institutions.  He  was  a  Saxon 
by  birth,  and  had  that  friendly,  generous  temperament 
which  differentiated  the  people  of  Dresden  from  the  peo 
ple  of  Berlin.  He  had  left  Germany  at  a  time  when 
Militarism  had  not  as  yet  laid  its  heavy  hand  upon  the 
Spirit  of  the  Fatherland  and  manacled  its  soul  and 
buckled  the  sword  to  its  loins.  Commercialism  had  not 
then  been  wedded  to  Militarism,  neither  had  the  banks 
and  barracks  embraced  each  other  or  had  the  king  and  the 
"  Captains  of  Industry  "  kissed  each  other. 

The  professor  knew  of  the  changes  taking  place, 
for  he  kept  in  close  touch  with  German  literature  which 
was  corrupted  in  spots  by  the  new  spirit;  but  he  did 
not  realize  the  complete  metamorphosis  till  he  returned 
to  the  Fatherland  a  few  years  before  the  war.  The 
very  things  which  American  visitors  lauded,  which  our 
lecturers  held  up  for  emulation,  and  magazine  writers 
exploited,  marred  the  pleasure  of  the  returned  idealist, 
and  he  confessed  that  he  wept  when  he  saw  the  new  Ger 
many. 


278      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

When  he  returned  to  the  United  States  he  felt  that 
he  had  completely  broken  with  the  Old  Country  and  he 
became  a  genuine,  if  somewhat  unpractical  American. 
However,  the  war  revived  much  of  the  old  feeling  for 
the  Fatherland,  dead  things  came  to  life  again  and  the 
tragic  struggle  of  his  soul  was  as  genuine  as  it  was 
pathetic. 

The  meeting  was  called  to  order  by  the  chairman  who 
asked  the  eloquent  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey,  to  invoke 
the  Divine  blessing,  upon  which  that  gentleman  addressed 
a  very  lengthy  prayer  to  the  audience,  in  which  he  gave  a 
brief  history  of  the  war,  paid  fitting  tribute  to  the  Allied 
Armies,  told  the  purpose  of  the  National  Council  of 
Defense,  justified  the  war  by  copious  quotations  from 
the  Old  Testament,  mentioned  the  German  atrocities, 
foretold  the  second  coming  of  Christ,  catalogued  the 
great  resources  of  the  United  States,  asked  a  blessing 
upon  the  speaker  of  the  evening,  and  explained  to  the 
patient  Lord  his  wonderful  qualifications  for  the  task, 
after  which  he  "  asked  all  these  things  "  and  he  had 
really  not  asked  anything  "  in  the  name  of  Him  who  died 
for  love  of  country." 

Indeed  God  is  a  forgiving  God ;  He  forgives  even  such 
prayers  John  Hruby  was  thinking  as  the  chairman  in 
troduced  the  speaker  "  The  Honorable  Steve  Burly,  our 
distinguished  fellow-citizen  and  our  most  prominent 
editor." 

Steve  Burly  was  a  natural  born  orator  as  the  chair 
man  parenthetically  remarked:  that  is,  he  had  learned 
nothing  since  he  was  born  and  the  tricks  he  used  were 
natural  and  the  outgrowth  of  his  character. 

He  was  a  journalist  and  a  politician,  a  dangerous  com 
bination,  for  he  used  his  newspaper  to  further  his  political 
schemes  and  his  political  power  to  obtain  public  patron 
age  for  his  newspaper. 


STEVE  BURLY  279 

Steve  Burly  was  always  fighting  and  the  public  en 
joyed  it,  especially  when  he  flayed  the  rival  newspaper  of 
which  Wayne  MacBlane  was  the  editor.  Let  no  one 
imagine  that  he  was  not  a  patriot.  Steve  Burly  loved 
his  country  as  the  caveman  loved  his  clan,  despising 
every  other  caveman  whose  totem  was  not  like  his,  or 
whose  tattoo  marks  were  different,  while  the  hate  in  him 
was  not  modified  since  that  day;  for  his  ancestors  were 
all  clansmen  who  were  loyal  to  the  few  and  who  hated 
the  many. 

He  called  himself  a  Christian,  was  a  member  of  a 
Protestant  church  and  taught  a  Sunday  School  class. 
In  his  religious  thought  he  had  traveled  with  the  chil 
dren  of  Israel  as  far  as  Mount  Sinai,  where  he  was 
caught  in  the  fire  and  smoke,  which  he  never  escaped,  and 
he  thoroughly  enjoyed  singing  the  imprecatory  Psalms 
to  long  meter  tunes. 

He  was,  as  the  chairman  said,  "  a  natural  born  orator," 
and  knew  that  a  crowd  is  never  rational,  and  that  the 
greater  the  mob  the  cheaper  the  message  can  be.  He 
began  his  speech  with  the  usual  flatteries  and  rattling 
good  stories  and  a  glorification  of  "  Old  Glory."  After 
having  exhausted  all  the  oratorical  ammunition  that  has 
accumulated  since  our  war  for  Independence,  he  came 
to  new  phrases  coined  in  the  pressure  of  a  world  agony 
which  from  his  lips  fell  like  empty  echoes  out  of  an 
empty  cave.  As  sedulously  as  some  speakers  discourage 
applause,  Steve  Burly  invited  it  by  frequent  pauses,  as 
he  worked  himself  toward  the  climax. 

After  nearly  an  hour  of  "  spouting  hot  air  "  to  quote 
Wayne  MacBlane,  he  braced  himself  for  his  peroration. 
As  he  shot  it  forth  he  straightened  himself  to  his  full 
length,  rising  on  his  tiptoes,  the  foreshadowing  pan 
tomime  of  his  thought. 

"  There  are  snakes  in  the  grass/'  he  hissed,   "  and 


280      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

they  are  right  here  in  Coalton!  The  Kaiser's  spies, 
whom  we  have  nourished  in  our  bosom,  paid  agents  of 
the  German  government,  who  are  doing  their  devilish 
work  in  our  midst!  They  have  crept  into  our  college 
and  they  are  in  our  pulpits!  They  have  corrupted  the 
press!"  And  he  pointed  his  finger  toward  the  rear  of 
the  platform  where  the  faculty  sat,  and  his  glance  swept 
over  groups  of  foreign  born,  and  finally  rested  upon 
Wayne  MacBlane  who  was  sitting  directly  in  front  of 
the  platform. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  hush,  as  something  like 
fear  crept  over  the  audience.  Then  he  warned  against 
the  propaganda  in  German  hymn  books,  and  declared 
that  a  law  ought  to  be  passed  to  prohibit  preaching  in 
foreign  languages.  His  final  shot  which  lifted  the 
audience  to  the  desired  frenzy  came  when  shaking  his 
fist  at  the  assembled  foreigners,  he  shouted  "  Speak  Eng 
lish  or  get  out  of  this  country." 

The  crowd  hooted  and  yelled,  and  called  "  Good  boy, 
Steve,  give  it  to  them."  And  no  one  seemed  to  remember 
that  it  was  Steve  Burly  who  had  gone  to  picnics  with  the 
Germans  and  had  drunk  their  beer  with  many  a  "  Hock!  " 
who  had  toasted  the  "  great  German  people  "  and  had 
complimented  them  upon  maintaining  the  German  lan 
guage  in  the  parochial  schools,  and  worked  hard  to 
nominate  a  German- American  for  the  office  of  sheriff, 
so  that  the  German-Americans  of  the  county  should  have 
due  recognition  and  incidentally  poll  a  big  vote  for  him 
when  running  for  senator.  Yes,  it  was  the  same  Steve 
Burly,  the  same  "  Old  Boy  " ;  but  the  times  had  changed 
while  he  had  not,  and  he  knew  the  signs  of  the  times. 

The  German-Americans  sat  as  if  beaten  over  their 
heads,  the  members  of  the  faculty  in  full  view  of  the 
audience  tried  to  look  unperturbed,  and  succeeded,  all 
but  Professor  Niederstadt.  He  had  shrunk  into  his 


STEVE  BURLY  281 

seat,  and  with  bowed  head  was  so  engulfed  in  his  agony 
that  he  did  not  hear  the  chairman's  orders  to  "  all  rise 
and  sing  the  Star  Spangled  Banner."  He  heard  noth 
ing;  saw  nothing;  he  only  knew  that  his  heart  was 
breaking. 

The  people  poured  out  of  the  Opera  House  but  they 
were  different  from  those  who  entered  it.  Coalton  now 
had  a  hate  built  trench  running  through  it,  and  the 
poisoned  gas  had  rilled  its  soul. 

The  Slovaks  did  not  understand  much  of  the  speech 
and  that  was  fortunate.  "  Why  did  he  bellow  so  loud  ?  " 
one  of  the  men  asked  Sonya,  and  she  did  not  reply;  but 
a  man  who  was  sitting  in  the  next  seat  and  overheard 
the  question,  said :  "  He  wants  us  stop  talking  Slovak 
and  talk  Anglitzky"  "  Is  that  what  the  war  is  about?  " 
the  simple  Slovak  asked. 

John  Hruby's  people  went  home  to  their  patch  in  de 
pressed  groups.  They  were  instinctively  afraid,  and  he 
tried  to  reassure  them.  After  all,  he  told  them  that  man 
was  not  a  representative  American  and  they  had  nothing 
to  fear. 

Sonya  clung  close  to  him  and  he  felt  an  unusual  tender 
ness  in  the  pressure  of  her  hand  on  his  arm.  When  they 
entered  the  street  in  which  the  parsonage  was  located, 
weirdly  illumined  by  the  flames  from  the  mills,  she  im 
pulsively  kissed  him,  and  he  put  his  arm  protectingly 
around  her.  Annenka  did  not  try  to  conceal  her  amaze 
ment  when  her  mistress  inquired  for  the  baby  more 
solicitously  than  ever  before. 

For  a  long  time  she  had  not  been  so  demonstrative  as 
she  was  that  night  and  John  Hruby  was  overjoyed.  She 
called  him  her  "  Yanetchek,"  and  began  talking  of 
Hraszova,  what  Mother  Elzabetha  might  be  doing,  and 
whether  Christina  was  not  working  herself  to  death, 
and  wondering  who  was  alive  and  who  was  dead. 


282      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"You  are  not  homesick,  dearest,  are  you?"  And  he 
kissed  her  again  and  again,  feeling  his  answer  on  her  lips, 
and  seeing  it  in  the  tears  which  filled  her  eyes. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "  Yanetchku  muy  I  am  homesick; 
that  man  made  me  think  of  Hraszova  and  the  Jew  bait 
ing;  I  couldn't  have  believed  it  of  America,  it  is  worse 
than  in  Hraszova." 

He  called  her  his  "  foolish  little  foreigner."  She 
curled  herself  up  in  his  arms  and  looked  deep  into  his 
eyes,  then  buried  her  head  on  his  breast.  "  Promise  me, 
Yanetchku  Muy,"  she  said,  "  that  after  this  war  is  over 
we  will  go  home  to  Slovakland."  He  did  not  reply,  for 
he  had  been  fighting  the  same  thought. 

"  You  know,"  she  continued,  "  it  will  be  a  free  Slovak- 
land,"  and  he  nodded  his  head;  "  and  there  will  be  four 
of  us  going  home.  No,  no,"  she  replied  to  his  question; 
"not  Annenka.  You  and  I  and  little  Christina  and — 
she  paused,  "  and  a  little  Yanek  if  God  wills." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT:  IDOLS  OF  CLAY 

WHEN  one's  idols  turn  out  to  be  clay,  the  heart  turns 
to  stone,  and  as  John  Hruby  stared  at  the  front 
page  of  the  Evening  Tribune,  the  huge  type  of  the  curt 
headlines  danced  before  his  eyes,  like  the  caricatures  in 
the  movies,  and  when  they  finally  settled  into  their  proper 
sequence  he  cried,  so  loud  that  it  startled  Sonya :  "  It 
isn't  true !  It  isn't  true !  "  And  he  said  it  with  a  note 
of  despair.  They  had  lynched  a  German,  a  perfectly  in 
nocent  German  miner,  because  he  was  supposed  to  be 
Pro-German. 

John  Hruby  crumpled  the  paper  in  his  hands,  then 
straightened  it  out  and  read  it  again,  to  make  sure.  His 
idol  had  turned  to  clay  and  his  heart  to  stone.  "  They 
sang  '  My  country  'tis  of  thee,  sweet  land  of  liberty/ 
while  they  pulled  the  rope!  "  and  he  laughed  hysterically. 
"  '  Sweet  land  of  liberty! '  and  they  lynch  a  man,  mur 
der  an  innocent  man  in  the  name  of  Liberty!  " 

If  Sonya  had  turned  harlot,  it  would  have  broken  his 
heart,  and  he  might  have  lost  faith  in  women ;  but  Amer 
ica!  America!  He  didn't  want  to  lose  faith  in  America! 
"  What  was  there  left  to  humanity,  if  America  was  to  be 
defeated  by  her  Steve  Burlys?" 

He  went  down  town  and  realized  at  once  that  Coalton 
had  changed.  There  were  averted  faces  and  reluctant 
greetings;  for  although  the  lynching  had  taken  place 
in  a  neighboring  mining  town,  the  foulness  of  it  had 
crept  into  Coalton,  as  it  had  into  every  town  and  city, 
making  America  less  than  it  had  been  to  every  foreign 
born  soul  who  trusted  in  her  sense  of  fair  play  and  who 
believed  in  her  wide  flung  idealistic  phrases. 

283 


284      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

He  went  to  see  Wayne  MacBlane.  Wayne  was 
pounding  his  typewriter,  but  stopped  when  John  Hruby 
entered,  and  savagely  bit  off  the  end  of  another  cigar. 
After  properly  moistening  it  he  began  to  smoke,  waiting 
for  his  friend  to  open  the  conversation.  John  Hruby 
was  walking  up  and  down  the  untidy  room  kicking  the 
fallen  newspapers  out  of  his  way,  until  at  last  he  stopped, 
and  facing  Wayne  MacBlane,  he  said,  with  a  short  com 
manding  jerk  in  his  voice,  "  Wayne,  tell  me  that  this  isn't 
true !  "  and  he  held  the  crumpled  paper  in  his  outstretched 
hand. 

"  True,  why,  of  course  it's  true,  true  as  Moses,"  and 
he  adjusted  his  yellow  sheet,  prior  to  the  attack  upon  it. 

"  But  it  can't  be  true !  What  will  the  world  think 
about  America  ?  " 

"  The  world,  my  dear  fellow,"  Wayne  MacBlane  re 
plied,  this  time  taking  his  cigar  out  of  his  mouth,  "  the 
world !  '  To  Hell  with  the  world/  as  Steve  Burly  would 
say.  What  has  that  to  do  with  the  world  ?  " 

"  Haven't  we  gone  to  war  to  make  the  world  '  Safe 
for  Democracy  ?  ' 

"  We  have  gone  to  war  to  lick  the  Germans  and  make 
the  world  safe  for  hypocrisy,"  Wayne  MacBlane  re 
plied  tartly.  "  Yes,  I  know  it  hurts  you  to  hear  that ; 
but  it's  the  stark  naked  truth  I  am  telling  you.  Most 
of  the  fellows  who  are  yelling  their  heads  off  so  loud 
about  democracy,  wouldn't  recognize  it  in  broad  day 
light. 

"  No,  I  don't  think  President  Wilson  is  a  hypocrite. 
I  think  he  meant  what  he  said ;  but  he  knows  our  weak 
ness  for  slogans.  You  know  that  you  and  I  and  ten 
million  fools  like  ourselves  fall  for  '  Uwanta  Doughnut ' 
whether  we  want  it  or  not,  and  we  chew  Malted  Air- 
flakes  because  some  chap,  who  isn't  half  as  clever  as  he 
thinks  he  is,  has  plastered  the  country  with  a  half  million 


IDOLS  OF  CLAY  285 

dollars  worth  of  printers'  ink  telling  us,  *  There  is  Ozone 
in  Airflakes/  Now  it  is  '  Make  the  world  a  decent 
place  to  live  in '  and  nine  out  of  ten  of  us  don  t  believe 
it;  yet  we  mouth  it  and  shout  it  as  if  it  were  gospel  truth. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  replied  to  John  Hruby's  assertion 
that  "  You  Americans  have  high  ideals/'  "  but  we  are 
deucedly  poor  in  cashing  them  in.  You  don't  remember 
our  '  Simple  Living '  slogan.  We  went  wild  over  it,  and 
we  stuffed  out  parlors  full  of  mission  furniture,  and 
we  had  mission  barber  shops  and  mission  saloons,  until 
'  Simple  Living '  went  into  the  discard,  and  Democracy 
and  all  our  eloquent  bunk  will  go  the  same  way  after  the 
war.  I  told  Steve  Burly  yesterday  that  he  will  get  a 
darned  sight  more  democracy  out  of  this  war,  than  he 
will  know  what  to  do  with/'  and  Wayne  MacBlane 
began  eating  up  space  with  his  typewriter,  as  if  John 
Hruby  were  over  in  Slovakland  where  he  really  belonged. 

That  unhappy  man  fingered  the  exchanges  which  over 
flowed  the  table  and  fell  on  to  the  floor  like  rotten  fruit 
from  a  tree,  and  his  broad  horizon  shrank  more  and 
more,  and  he  went  toward  the  door  creeping  more  than 
walking;  for  he  had  suffered  his  great  disillusionment 
and  had  suddenly  grown  old. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  a  piece  of  advice,  dominie/' 
Wayne  MacBlane  called  after  him.  "  Don't  let  this 
thing  sour  you,  and  keep  your  mouth  "shut.  If  you  have 
any  influence  with  Niederstadt  tell  him  to  do  the  same 
thing;  for  the  Vigilance  Corps  will  get  you,  if  you  don't 
watch  out.  These  are  deucedly  unhealthy  days  for  for 
eigners,  especially  for  him.  If  my  name  were  Nieder 
stadt  I  would  go  into  a  cyclone  cellar  and  stay  there  until 
this  thing  blows  over.  Lynchings  like  all  troubles  don't 
come  singly. 

"  Fortunately  my  name  is  MacBlane  and  I  am  Scotch- 
Irish  and  then  I  like  a  fight.  I  had  a  letter  to-day  telling 


286      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

me  not  to  show  my  Pro-German  face  down  town  again; 
so  I  will  parade  Main  Street  when  I  get  done  here  and 
then  go  to  the  movies/' 

John  Hruby,  however,  did  not  keep  his  mouth  shut 
as  Wayne  MacBlane  advised  him.  On  Monday  at  the 
ministers'  meeting  he  talked  and  talked  freely,  for  he 
thought  he  could  unburden  himself  there.  It  was  a 
solemn,  sober  company  which  gathered  that  Monday 
morning  in  the  study  of  the  Presbyterian  minister.  Most 
of  the  men  had  mentioned  the  lynching  in  their  pulpits, 
but  they  had  to  be  careful  and  they  were.  The  war  fever 
had  crept  into  their  blood  and  though  some  of  them 
yielded  themselves  reluctantly,  they  prudently  shelved 
their  Gospel  of  Good  will  and  Peace  on  Earth  and  though 
they  counseled  law  and  order  they  also  stirred  the  fires 
to  help  on  the  war  morale. 

The  most  honest  among  them  declared  a  moratorium 
on  the  Gospel  for  the  duration  of  the  war;  so  they  read 
their  Scripture  lessons  from  the  Old  Testament  and 
avoided  the  hymns  of  love  and  forgiveness. 

Others,  and  they  were  in  the  majority,  committed 
gross  atrocities  on  the  body  of  Jesus,  by  harnessing  him 
to  the  war  chariot  and  thus  winning  the  approval  of 
their  congregations,  they  enjoyed  the  new  sensation  of 
having  their  sermons  applauded  when  they  said,  "  To 
Hell  with  the  Kaiser ! "  And  denounced  the  higher 
criticism,  socialism  and  atheism  as  the  products  of  Ger 
man  Kultur. 

The  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey  was  put  on  the  County 
Council  of  National  Defense  and  his  congregation  in 
creased  in  the  ratio  of  his  vehemence.  It  was  he  who 
declared  John  Hruby's  remarks  at  the  minister's  meeting 
Pro-German  and  started  the  discussion  which  led  to 
all  his  trouble. 

''  You  might  as  well  call  me  an  atheist  or  an  anarchist 


IDOLS  OF  CLAY  287 

as  to  call  me  Pro-German,"  he  said  hotly.  "  Evidently 
you  don't  know  that  I  am  in  this  country  because  I 
struggled  to  free  my  people  from  the  Magyars  and  Ger 
mans.  I  am  not  Pro-anything  but  Pro-human." 

It  did  seem  like  a  boast;  for  after  all  his  struggles  in 
Slovakland  had  been  ineffective  and  feeble;  for  he  was 
no  fighter. 

"  Pro-human  nothing !  "  the  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey 
retorted  with  more  heat  than  elegance,  "  The  man  who 
isn't  for  us  is  against  us;  anyway  we  don't  want  any  of 
you  foreigners  to  tell  us  how  to  conduct  our  affairs." 

The  shot  went  home.  "  After  all,"  John  Hruby  said 
to  himself,  "  I  am  only  a  foreigner,"  and  he  was  silent. 
But  the  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey  was  no  more  just  the 
Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
National  Council  of  Defense,  and  as  such  he  felt  his 
importance,  and  that  it  was  his  business  to  go  to  the 
bottom  of  this  thing  and  he  did. 

"  I  insist  that  our  brother  make  a  full  statement  of  his 
attitude  toward  the  war,"  he  cried  out  almost  hysterically. 

John  Hruby  did  not  move,  he  felt  the  insult  too  keenly 
and  his  intention  was  to  leave  the  room,  but  he  remained 
as  if  sealed  to  his  chair.  At  last  he  rose  and  in  a  voice 
full  of  suppressed  emotions  said :  "  I  have  lived  among 
you  brethren  for  four  years  or  more  and  I  have  preached 
to  my  people  what  I  thought  was  the  Gospel.  I  must 
confess  that  I  have  not  always  been  faithful  to  my  mes 
sage,  for  I  have  often  preached  more  about  America  than 
the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  sometimes  I  have  declared  the 
two  identical.  I  love  America,  if  not  better  than  you  can, 
because  I  have  come  to  it  out  of  great  tribulation. 

"  I  am  willing  to  give  my  last  cent  that  America  should 
be  victorious  in  this  war  for  I  hate  militarism  and  autoc 
racy  worse  I  fear  than  Hell  and  the  devil.  I  am  willing 
to  die  for  this  country.  I  have  offered  myself  to  the 


288      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

government  and  it  has  refused  my  offer  because  I  was 
born  in  central  Europe.  The  fact  is,  I  should  like  to  die 
for  America  as  a  sort  of  proof  not  only  of  my  own 
loyalty,  but  of  the  loyalty  of  my  people. 

"  I  cannot,  however,  give  to  my  country  my  soul.  I 
can  give  to  Caesar  that  which  is  Caesar's,  but  I  will  not 
give  to  Caesar  that  which  is  God's.  I  cannot  hate,  for  the 
Good  Book  says :  '  He  that  hateth  his  brother  is  a  mur 
derer,'  and  I  believe  The  Book/' 

"  The  good  brother  doesn't  know  that  we  have  to  de 
scend  to  the  level  of  the  beasts  in  this  war,  even  as  Christ 
descended  into  Hell,"  the  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey  re 
plied,  meeting  Scripture  with  Scripture. 

The  blood  rose  to  John  Hruby's  brain  at  the  blasphemy, 
and  for  a  moment  he  tried  to  hold  back  the  indignation 
which  pressed  for  utterance.  "If  the  Reverend  Arthur 
Ramsey,"  he  said,  ignoring  that  gentleman  and  speaking 
to  the  other  ministers,  "  can  descend  to  the  level  of  the 
beasts  he  is  to  be  congratulated  upon  the  achievement ;  I 
cannot.  I  probably  am  not  a  better  or  worse  man  than 
he  is,  but  I  simply  cannot  do  that,  it  is  morally  impossible 
for  me.  And  if  I  knew  that  when  '  Christ  descended  into 
Hell '  he  became  like  the  devil,  I  would  renounce  Jesus  as 
I  have  renounced  the  devil."  Having  said  this  John 
Hruby  took  his  hat  and  left  the  room,  two  of  his  fellow 
ministers  going  out  with  him  and  shaking  his  hand  but 
saying  nothing. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE:  THE  HATERS 

THE  winter  of  1917-18  will  long  be  remembered  by 
the  "  oldest  inhabitant,"  and  the  record  of  its  rigor 
and  fierce  biting  blasts  will  be  recalled  whenever  the  sur 
vivors  of  that  period  tell  the  story  of  the  bitterness  and 
rancor  which  filled  human  hearts,  for  they  were  as  cruel 
as  the  weather.  Those  who  lived  through  that  time  will 
speak  less  harshly  of  the  Middle  Ages.  They  will  under 
stand  how,  under  the  stress  of  great  passion,  men  may 
torture  their  fellow  beings  to  exact  conformity  to  their 
own  views  and  burn  them  to  death  if  they  remain 
obdurate. 

While  men  may  forget  the  coldest  winter  in  their 
memory,  the  biting  of  the  frost  of  hate  will  ever  remain 
as  a  sad  reminder  of  the  days  when  many  fine  fruits  of 
the  human  spirit  were  blighted,  possibly  to  make  room 
for  better  things ;  we  can  only  surmise. 

The  winter  in  Coalton  was  as  unbearable  as  every 
where  else.  Trains  were  blockaded  by  huge  drifts  which 
made  their  own  defenses,  blasting  winds  cut  their  trenches 
and  the  blizzards  whirled  blinding  barrages  into  the  land 
scape,  while  the  hate  and  strife,  the  breaking  of  human 
relations,  the  base  suspicions  and  the  blasting  of  careers 
were  a  little  worse  there  than  elsewhere,  for  all  of  which 
Steve  Burly  was  to  blame. 

As  has  been  said  he  was  a  patriot,  always  destructive, 
never  constructive.  He  hated  more  than  he  loved  his 
kind,  and  was  prolific  in  breeding  patriots  like  himself; 
for  it  is  easy  to  hate.  His  editorial  columns  were  full  of 
invectives  and  accusations  against  this  or  that  man  promi 
nent  in  his  own  or  neighboring  communities,  and  the 


290      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

smaller  newspapers  in  the  adjacent  counties,  his  satel 
lites,  echoed  his  slanders  until  Coalton  and  the  entire 
State  were  as  full  of  hate  as  the  air  was  of  snowflakes. 

The  German  Lutheran  preacher  had  been  dragged 
through  the  streets  by  a  rope  and  escaped  death  only 
because  his  wife,  after  piteously  pleading  with  his  perse 
cutors,  fell  into  a  swoon. 

Professor  Niederstadt  was  taken  to  the  courthouse 
square  and  there  before  the  Goddess  of  Justice  who 
crowned  the  rotunda  he  was  made  to  kiss  the  American 
flag;  most  of  the  citizens  of  foreign  birth  were  brought 
before  the  Vigilance  Corps  which  passed  upon  their 
loyalty. 

John  Hruby  was  not  to  be  spared.  Sonya  had  begged 
him  to  leave  Coalton ;  but  he  had  fled  once,  and  ever  since 
had  regarded  himself  more  or  less  as  a  coward,  so  he 
determined  to  face  whatever  might  come. 

He  was  not  Scotch-Irish,  as  he  told  Wayne  MacBlane, 
only  a  pigeon  blooded  Slav ;  yet  while  he  had  no  courage 
to  spare,  he  felt  something  within  him  that  was  like  moral 
courage,  so  he  determined  to  test  himself,  and  he  awaited 
developments. 

It  was  the  night  before  Christmas  and  Sonya  had 
retired.  Annenka  had  busied  herself  all  day  at  her  clean 
ing  and  she  was  still  rubbing  and  scrubbing  when  the 
door  bell  rang  and  she  answered  it.  Two  men  entered 
and  inquired  for  the  "  Reverend  Rooby."  He  thought  he 
knew  all  the  men  active  in  Coalton  affairs,  but  he  did  not 
recognize  these.  They  evidently  were  not  prominent  in 
the  community,  but  had  come  to  summon  him  before  the 
Vigilance  Corps. 

So  now  it  had  come  to  him,  this  thing  which  he  had 
anticinated  and  dreaded.  He  was  not  angry,  he  was  too 
keenly  hurt  for  that,  and  something  like  a  deep  shame 
crept  into  his  heart,  like  the  feeling  he  had,  when,  an 


THE  HATERS  291 

innocent  man,  he  was  marched  through  the  streets  of 
Hraszova,  the  gendarmes  flanking  him;  and  these  two 
men  seemed  to  him  just  like  those  stupid  minions  of  the 
law  who  took  pride  in  being  temporarily  the  masters  of 
others. 

He  whispered  to  Annenka  not  to  tell  her  mistress,  if  she 
should  awaken  and  inquire  for  him,  that  he  had  gone  with 
these  men,  but  that  he  was  called  away  and  would  return 
soon.  It  was  about  nine  o'clock  and  the  streets  were 
almost  impassable.  A  freezing  cutting  wind  was  blowing 
and  the  driven  snow  danced  in  whirls  around  the  street 
lights.  Annenka,  with  doglike  instinct,  scented  danger 
and  followed  her  master  as  far  as  possible.  He  was  taken 
down  Main  Street,  up  the  steps  of  an  office  building,  and 
into  an  anteroom  that  smelled  of  stale  tobacco.  A  loud 
murmur  reached  him  from  the  other  room  where  another 
victim  was  being  morally  and  spiritually  dissected.  He 
could  catch  occasional  snatches  of  the  conversation,  con 
cerning  the  buying  of  more  Liberty  Bonds,  or  fixing  the 
proper  amount  of  the  victim's  voluntary  subscription  to 
the  Red  Cross  Society. 

John  Hruby  was  guiltless  in  these  and  other  respects, 
for  he  had  subscribed  and  given  with  equal  liberality  and 
counted  it  neither  a  virtue  nor  a  duty,  but  a  privilege. 

The  victim  was  finally,  released  and  he  was  ushered  into 
the  presence  of  the  Vigilance  Corps,  a  self-appointed  body 
without  legal  or  moral  authority,  which  met  in  the  office 
of  one  of  its  members. 

He  was  greeted  politely  and  as  he  looked  around  he 
recognized  a  number  of  persons,  some  of  whom  looked 
shamefacedly  in  another  direction,  while  others  smiled  at 
him  in  an  encouraging  way,  as  if  to  say:  "Take  your 
medicine,  young  man,  it  won't  be  half  as  bad  as  you 
think;  "  others  merely  scowled  at  him. 

The  chairman  was  the  same  person  who  had  presided 


292      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

at  the  meeting  when  Steve  Burly  delivered  his  contribu 
tion  toward  making  "  the  world  a  decent  place  to  live  in." 
He  assumed  a  judical  air,  looking  as  wise  as  his  limi 
tations  permitted,  asked  John  Hruby  his  name  and  stated 
that  there  was  a  charge  against  him  for  disloyalty.  He 
was  then  asked  to  rise  and  state  his  case.  Slowly  he 
rose  to  his  feet  and  spoke.  He  told  them  where  he  was 
born,  under  what  circumstances,  and  how  he  had  come  to 
America ;  about  his  work  in  the  mines,  his  release  from 
that  labor  and  of  his  going  to  college.  He  told  of  the 
great  spiritual  changes  in  his  life  and  his  return  to  Hun 
gary,  drawn  there  by  a  desire  for  service.  He  pictured 
the  conditions  over  there,  the  pressure  of  the  stronger 
race  upon  the  weaker,  of  the  wrong  his  people  had  suf 
fered,  and  his  activities  in  their  behalf  which  finally  led 
him  into  conflict  with  the  authorities,  and  then  his  return 
to  America. 

His  life  in  Coalton  they  knew.  He  had  taken  out  his 
first  papers  and  was  anxiously  waiting  for  the  time  when 
he  could  become  a  citizen.  He  also  frankly  told  them  his 
opposition  to  war.  His  people  had  been  the  victims  of 
it  for  centuries,  and  though  they  owned  rich  lands  they 
were  impoverished  because  they  had  to  pay  the  taxes  of 
successive  wars.  He  described  the  poverty  of  his  people 
who  had  to  labor  without  eating  the  fruit  of  their 
endeavor. 

Moreover  he  was  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus, 
and  he  believed  that  the  teachings  of  Jesus  were  opposed 
to  war.  However,  when  the  United  States  declared  war 
on  Germany  he  made  such  an  adjustment  as  his  con 
science  would  allow,  and  he  had  urged  his  people  to  work 
and  to  suffer  and  if  need  be  to  die  for  this  country,  which 
had  entered  the  war,  not  for  territory  or  indemnities  or 
from  the  lust  of  battle,  but  for  the  freedom  of  the  world, 
which  included  making  his  country  free. 


THE  HATERS  293 

He  also  read  to  his  tormentors  the  names  of  the  Slovak 
boys  who  had  volunteered  before  the  draft  and  of  the 
others  who  had  gone  without  trying  to  claim  exemption, 
as  well  they  might  for  they  were  by  law  alien  enemies. 
He  told  of  the  bravery  of  the  boys  in  battle  who  had  to 
face  their  brothers  at  the  front,  and  the  sacrifices  which 
his  people  were  making  that  the  arm  of  the  United  States 
might  be  strengthened.  He  spoke  slowly  and  impress 
ively,  he  tried  to  reflect  the  state  of  his  mind  and  heart, 
and  he  withheld  nothing. 

Some  of  the  men  seemed  impressed  and  he  would  soon 
have  been  dismissed  if  the  chairman  had  not  regarded  so 
seriously  his  own  importance  in  the  case.  He  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  number  of  documents,  adjusted  his  eye 
glasses  and  began  to  question  him. 

"  Did  you  write  this  letter  of  protest  to  the  Evening 
Tribune?  "  He  handed  him  the  letter  and  John  Hruby 
looked  at  it,  then  passed  it  back,  saying :  "  I  am  proud  to 
say  that  I  did." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  wrote  that  if  this  is 
going  to  be  a  war  against  the  German  people  in  America, 
who  are  not  responsible  for  the  war,  you  are  not  in  favor 
of  the  war?  "  This  the  witness  emphatically  affirmed. 

The  chairman  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  at  the 
members  of  the  Vigilance  Corps  with  an  "  I  told  you  so  " 
sort  of  air. 

"  Did  you  say  that  war  is  an  atrocity  in  itself?  " 

"  I  did." 

The  eyeglasses  of  the  chairman  needed  readjustment; 
when  that  was  accomplished  he  read  again,  "  Did  you 
say  in  one  of  your  sermons  that  lynching  innocent  Ger 
mans  was  not  any  better  than  the  German  atrocities  in 
Belgium?  "  Again  there  was  no  denial  of  the  charge. 

The  chairman's  throat  once  more  needed  clearing  and 
he  cleared  it  impressively.  "  Did  you  say  at  another 


294      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

time,"  and  his  voice  grew  still  more  reproachful,  "  that 
those  who  take  up  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword?  " 

"  I  did,  Mr.  Chairman ;  but  that  was  not  original  with 
me." 

The  chairman  looked  puzzled  and  wanted  to  know 
where  he  had  heard  it,  and  when  John  Hruby  informed 
him  that  it  was  in  the  Bible  there  was  a  suppressed  titter 
among  the  more  intelligent  of  the  men. 

"  You  have  also  stated  that  you  couldn't  hate  anybody 
and  that  it  is  wrong  to  hate.  Don't  you  know  that  we 
are  sending  our  boys  over  to  France  to  send  those  damned 
Dutchmen  to  Hell?" 

"  I  don't  know  where  you  are  sending  those  Germans 
who  are  killed." 

"  You  couldn't  say :  '  To  Hell  with  the  Germans  ?  ' 

"  No,"  was  the  curt  reply,  "  though  they  have  been  very 
cruel  to  my  people  I  have  neither  the  desire  nor  the 
power  to  send  sixty  million  people  to  Hell." 

"  Well,  I  think  we  can  make  you  say  that." 

"  No,  you  cannot." 

"  Well,  we'll  fix  that.  Have  any  other  members  of  the 
Vigilance  Corps  any  questions  to  ask?" 

If  Wayne  MacBlane  had  been  there  he  would  have 
said :  "  Then  Hell  broke  loose." 

Had  John  Hruby  not  been  sent  over  here  by  the  Ger 
man  Government  as  a  spy? 

Had  he  not  helped  to  colonize  these  foreigners  so  that 
they  might  overthrow  the  United  States  Government?" 

Perhaps  he  did  not  have  a  sufficient  sense  of  humor  to 
laugh  at  these  questions,  yet  it  did  not  seem  possible  to 
him  that  sane  men  could  ask  them ;  but  question  followed 
question  as  dart  follows  dart,  and  each  of  them  had  a 
poisoned  tip. 

Outwardly  he  was  still  calm,  but  inwardly  he  felt  the 
blood  beating  against  his  temples  and  he  pressed  back 


THE  HATERS  295 

the  swollen  veins;  for  he  wanted  to  remain  master  of 
himself.  One  question,  however,  robbed  him  of  his 
poise. 

"  Did  you  not  refuse  at  one  of  the  ministers*  meetings 
to  declare  your  loyalty  to  the  United  States?  " 

It  wasn't  the  lie,  vile  though  it  was,  which  loosed  his 
suppressed  emotions.  But  that  the  lie  came  from  such 
a  quarter !  That  seemed  to  break  his  heart,  and  a  great 
cry  of  anguish  broke  from  his  lips. 

"  It  is  a  lie !  It  is  a  lie !  "  he  cried.  "  It  is  a  lie !  It  is 
a  damnable  lie!"  Men  jumped  to  their  feet  and  sur 
rounded  him.  He  did  not  know  whether  they  meant 
to  do  him  violence  or  not,  and  he  did  not  care;  they 
had  already  killed  something  within  him,  something  more 
precious  than  life — the  only  thing  worth  while,  his  faith 
in  America,  his  faith  in  good  men,  and  now  they  might 
have  his  life!  He  was  not  thinking  of  Sonya  or  of 
little  Christina  or  of  their  child  yet  unborn;  but  of  his 
faith  in  America,  shattered  and  almost  killed  by  these 
creatures. 

If  they  had  killed  him,  it  would  have  been  called  mur 
der;  perhaps  a  patriotic  jury  would  have  called  it  justifi 
able  murder;  but  for  this  thing  they  had  done  to  him 
there  was  no  name ;  for  language  never  believed  it  would 
have  to  name  it. 

As  his  agonizing  cries,  mingled  with  the  excited  voices 
of  the  men,  filled  the  room,  the  door  was  burst  open  and 
Sonya  dashed  in  among  them  like  a  fury.  "  What  are 
you  doing  to  him,  you  wretches  ?  Let  him  go !  "  she 
shrieked,  as  she  put  her  arms  around  him. 

"  All  of  you  are  not  worth  his  little  finger !  "  she  said 
in  her  broken  English.  "  A  thousand  of  you  are  not 
worth  one  of  him.'* 

"  Don't  be  excited,  Mrs.  Rooby,"  said  the  chairman. 
"  We  are  all  his  friends." 


296      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

"If  you  are  his  friends,  then  may  Heaven  protect 
him  from  his  enemies!  "  retorted  Sonya. 

"  Yanek,  my  Yanek !  Let  us  go  home,  away  from  these 
bad  men!"  And  she  led  him  out,  and  all  through  the 
cold  silent  streets  he  told  her  between  his  sobs  that  there 
is  a  better  America,  only  they  had  not  found  it,  and 
begged  her  not  to  lose  faith  in  America. 

"Don't  speak  to  me  of  America  or  the  Americans! 
I  hate  them  all!  Why  did  you  tell  me  that  here  all  is 
right  and  just,  that  every  man  may  think  for  himself 
and  not  be  molested?  Take  me  home  to  Hungary,  it 
may  be  bad  there,  but  it  is  worse  here !  " 

Yanek  tried  to  soothe  her  and  so  the  terrible  strain 
was  partially  lifted  from  his  own  over-wrought  feelings. 

When  they  reached  home  Annenka  received  them  with 
an  unwonted  gentleness.  It  was  long  before  they  could 
think  of  slumber,  but  in  trying  to  speak  words  of  com 
fort  to  one  another  they  at  last  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY:  SONYA  GOES  HOME 

HE  did  not  think  that  he  had  slept  at  all  when  Sonya's 
groaning  reached  him  in  the  peaceful  valley  of 
forgetfulness,  and  when  he  looked  into  her  eyes  he  read 
in  them  both  alarm  and  joy,  but  the  agony  which  crept 
into  her  face  hid  the  joy;  for  the  baby  to  whose  arrival 
they  had  looked  forward  so  happily,  was  coming  before 
its  time.  The  exposure  and  excitement  of  the  night 
were  too  much  for  Sonya  in  her  condition,  and  she  needs 
must  suffer  for  the  deeds  of  wicked  men. 

Annenka  was  awakened  and  the  doctor  summoned. 
Then  began  that  awful  time  when  the  hours  seemed  to 
lengthen  into  years;  for  the  spasms  of  pain  did  not  reach 
their  climax  until  late  that  night. 

It  is  at  such  a  time  as  this  that  true  men  feel  ashamed 
that  the  curse  of  bearing  children  in  pain  falls  so  com 
pletely  upon  the  woman,  and  they  strive  in  vain  to  balance 
the  account  by  their  mental  anguish,  knowing  all  the  time 
that  they  are  the  debtors.  Most  men  pray  then  even  if 
they  have  never  prayed  before,  and  John  Hruby  clutched 
the  hem  of  God's  garment  and  reached  despairingly  to 
ward  the  great  Father  Heart. 

God  seemed  to  be  striving  and  struggling,  as  if  half 
impotent  to  amend  man's  cruel  bungling ;  yet  he  believed 
that  God  was  hearing  him  and  that  he  was  not  only  pity 
ing  him  in  his  misery  but  pitying  Himself  for  having 
left  His  last  and  best  creation,  made  in  His  own  image, 
so  unlike  Himself;  so  powerful  and  yet  so  weak;  so  kind 
and  yet  so  cruel. 

John  Hruby  looked  out  into  the  glare  of  the  Sun,  re- 

297 


298      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

fleeted  upon  the  fine  blown  snow,  all  its  sharp  ridges  ac 
centuated,  and  its  hollows  deepened.  Men  were  passing 
and  he  wanted  to  call  out  to  them  to  come  in  and  see 
how  much  they  had  added  to  a  woman's  pain,  and  what 
their  malignant  hate  had  brought  into  the  sublimest  mo 
ment  of  a  woman's  love. 

"  Good  God !  Save  me  from  hating  them !  "  His  heart 
cried  out.  "  There  is  hate  enough  and  to  spare !  "  He 
tried  to  think  kindly  of  them  and  smile  upon  them  as  they 
passed;  but  they  were  intent  upon  keeping  out  the  cruel 
cold,  and  had  they  seen  him  they  might  have  turned 
away  from  him  as  they  had  done  again  and  again  during 
the  last  few  months.  To  them  he  was  an  outcast,  be 
fouled  by  their  lies,  declared  disloyal  by  men  who  were 
disloyal  to  the  holiest  of  all  earthly  things — personality, 
and  who  had  tried  to  drag  a  human  soul  to  their  foul 
level. 

He  was  just  himself  now,  John  Hruby ;  an  alien  whom 
they  had  torn  from  the  womb  of  the  country  in  which  he 
was  having  his  rebirth,  even  as  the  doctor  was  struggling 
to  bring  that  holy  thing  out  of  the  womb  of  its  mother. 
They  had  succeeded,  and  he  still  felt  the  hurt  of  it;  the 
strain,  the  bruises,  the  grip  of  their  forceps,  and  the 
slimy  touch  of  their  fingers. 

Yet  he  knew  he  must  not  hate  them ;  for  the  striving 
God  within  was  telling  him  that  they  were  blinded  by 
their  hate,  and  he  was  weeping  more  for  them  than  for 
himself.  They  thought  they  were  dragging  him  through 
the  muck  of  their  low  passion ;  but  instead,  they  had  taken 
him  through  the  fire,  the  purifying  fire  of  suffering  "  for 
righteousness*  sake."  So  much  dross  had  been  burned 
away,  and  it  dropped  from  his  soul  leaving  it  the  purer, 
while  they  were  defiled;  just  as  the  men  in  the  mills 
while  they  purified  the  ore  and  toughened  it  into  steel, 
came  away  besmirched  and  weakened  by  their  toil. 


SONYA  GOES  HOME  299 

Sonya  called  to  him  and  he  went  to  her  bedside.  He 
wished  he  might  lift  himself  and  soar  to  her,  so  that 
the  floor  might  not  creak,  or  cause  the  bed  upon  which 
she  lay,  to  shake.  She  was  too  weak  to  speak.  The 
pain  had  been  assuaged  for  a  time  but  had  left  her  ex 
hausted,  and  the  doctor  cautioned  silence.  Her  husband 
grasped  her  hot  limp  hand  and  held  it,  and  tried  to  let 
his  love  flow  into  her  heart  and  his  strength  into  her 
weakened  body.  "Oh  God!"  he  cried,  "Help  her! 
Bless  her!  Heal  her!" 

He  saw  the  struggle  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  pain  drawn 
face.  She  tried  to  speak  to  him,  her  cheeks  flushed  sud 
denly  as  she  felt  the  agony  surging  back,  and  she  knew 
that  she  could  not  survive.  "  You  will  take  the  children 
home  to  Hraszova — to  Christina,"  she  whispered  breath 
lessly.  "  Tell  her  to  forgive  me.  My  little  Christina !  " 
and  she  pointed  toward  the  door,  and  he  knew  that  she 
wanted  her  child.  Annenka  brought  the  poor  frightened 
little  girl,  who  began  to  cry;  for  they  were  all  weeping. 
They  soon  led  her  out,  for  her  mother  scarcely  had 
strength  to  kiss  her. 

The  day  and  evening  passed  in  agonizing  alternations 
of  fear  and  hope,  while  Sonya's  strength  ebbed  slowly 
away.  About  midnight  the  pain  racked  her  for  the 
last  ordeal  and  she  cried :  "  Don't  let  them  come !  They 
are  coming  for  me !  The  Americans  are  coming  to  take 
me  away!  Don't  let  them  come  to  my  burial."  There 
was  a  momentary  lull  in  her  pain.  "  I  want  nothing  from 
them — nothing !  "  she  cried  and  awaited  the  inevitable. 

A  poor  tiny  being  born  out  of  due  time  came  into 
the  world  with  no  assurance  of  a  lease  upon  life;  and 
in  the  white,  ghastly  face  of  its  mother  there  was  not 
even  a  welcoming  smile.  John  Hruby  never  really  knew 
how  long  she  hovered  between  life  and  death,  for  time 
was  blotted  out  and  he  lived  only  by  torturing  heart  beats. 


300      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

Once  the  doctor  gave  him  a  straw  of  hope  for  his  des 
pairing  soul  to  clutch.  "God!  God!  Let  her  live!  Let 
her  live !  She  must  get  well !  "  he  pleaded. 

He  knelt  beside  her  and  told  her  that  as  soon  as  she 
was  able  to  travel  he  would  take  her  back  to  Hraszova, 
and  knowing  that  it  gave  him  pleasure,  she  smiled  and 
tried  to  listen  to  his  plans.  They  brought  the  little  baby, 
and  she  summoned  all  her  fast  failing  energies  and  called 
it  her  "  little  Yanetchek " ;  but  it  looked  as  old  and 
wrinkled  as  if  it  had  already  lived  a  hundred  years,  or 
as  if  it  had  drunk  deep  from  the  cup  of  woe  which 
humanity  was  filling  to  the  brim. 

It  had  not  strength  enough  to  cry,  and  Annenka  took  it 
again,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  in  her  parch 
ment  like  cheeks  there  came  a  glow.  She  was  a  mother, 
and  she  pressed  it  close  to  her  breasts  and  prayed  for  a 
miracle  to  fill  them  that  she  might  nourish  the  little 
creature.  John  Hruby's  spirits  rose  and  fell  like  a  boat 
on  a  stormy  sea.  Now  Sonya  had  almost  gone  from 
him;  then  she  came  back  again,  as  if  the  Captain  were 
taking  this  ship  to  its  harbor,  not  sure  that  he  would 
make  the  sheltering  breakwater.  Sonya  knew  that  she 
was  going  home,  but  that  her  harbor  was  on  the  other, 
safer  side.  She  talked  about  Hraszova,  and  the  small 
happy  incidents  which  loom  so  large  at  such  a  time — 
faded  pictures  becoming  stronger  and  brighter  the  fur 
ther  they  receded ;  for  the  dying  become  f arsighted. 

"  You  will  plant  tulips,"  she  whispered  and  spoke  of 
Mother  Elzabetha  who  always  planted  "  tulipany  "  in  the 
autumn,  and  brought  to  the  Pan's  table  the  first  glorious 
cups  out  of  which  spring  drank  the  health  of  the  year. 
"And  rosemary."  She  drew  in  her  breath  as  if  the 
pungent  herb  were  near  her.  Then  she  took  her  hus 
band's  hands  with  a  strength  which  deceived  him,  and 
kissed  them.  "  Rosemary,"  she  whispered  again  and 


SONYA  GOES  HOME  301 

again,  as  he  held  her  close.  "  What  a  beautiful  wreath 
you  have  on  your  head,  my  darling,"  she  said  as  her 
mind  wandered. 

"  Vyenetz''  she  whispered,  "  Vyenetz,  but  there  are  no 
tulips  in  your  Vyenetz,  only  yellow  grain  and  wild  asters, 
and  I  want  tulips  and  rosemary. 

"  Let  us  go  into  the  garden,  Yanek,"  and  her  face 
flushed  from  the  secret  joy  of  it.  "  Let  us  gather  tulips 
and  smell  the  rosemary." 

Then  her  hands  began  moving  over  the  coverlid  as  if 
she  were  searching  for  something. 

"  They  are  gone!  Only  wild  asters  and  yellow  grain, 
and  it  is  cold,  cold !  " 

Her  body  shook  in  the  chill  of  death,  and  though  her 
husband  piteously  begged  her  to  live  for  him,  her  spirit 
took  its  flight,  all  was  still  and — Sonya  had  gone  to  the 
eternal  spring,  where  the  angels  drink  out  of  tulips  and 
wind  sweet  wreaths  of  rosemary;  but  she  left  behind 
her  a  desolate  winter,  and  a  more  desolate  heart. 

"  Hayishku,  Hayishku!  "  Annenka  had  walked  up  and 
down  all  night  singing  to  the  baby  every  lullaby  she 
knew,  huddling  it  and  cuddling  it;  so  for  a  long  time  as 
she  walked  up  and  down,  still  crooning  and  still  singing, 
she  did  not  know  that  the  baby  was  dead  in  her  arms. 
When  she  discovered  it  she  wept  so  violently  that  the 
watchers,  sitting  below  at  Sonya' s  casket,  ran  upstairs  to 
see  what  had  happened  to  Annenka.  Had  she  borne  the 
child  herself,  she  could  not  have  been  more  reluctant  to 
give  it  up.  She  dressed  it  in  all  the  hand  stitched  finery 
which  awaited  it,  and  they  put  it  into  the  arms  of  Sonya, 
from  whose  womb  it  had  been  forced  to  come  too  soon. 

The  news  of  her  death  and  her  baby's  swept  through 
town,  and  the  telephone  bell  rang  often,  inquiries  were 
made  and  help  proffered.  Annenka,  who  guarded  the 


302      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

'phone,  answered  every  one  with  a  sharp  and  decisive 
no,  and  told  all  who  asked,  that  the  funeral  would  be 
private. 

As  she  guarded  the  telephone,  so  she  guarded  the  door, 
and  when  the  florists  came  with  wreaths  and  flowers  from 
American  donors  she  refused  to  accept  them ;  as  she  knew 
she  was  doing  what  her  mistress  would  wish. 

Wayne  MacBlane  and  Professor  Niederstadt  were  con 
stantly  with  John  Hruby  and  they  were  wise  enough  not 
to  say  anything  at  a  time  when  mere  words  are  worse 
than  powerless,  and  the  best  of  them  meaningless. 

They  and  Mrs.  Niederstadt  were  the  only  Americans 
who  were  at  the  funeral  service,  which  was  held  in  the 
little  church. 

The  Slovak  women  came  in  their  picturesque  garb,  for 
Annenka  had  told  them  that  their  Pcmyi  Fararka  would 
like  the  tulips  on  their  dresses  better  than  any  flowers 
which  they  might  buy;  so  they  wore  whatever  bit  of 
Old  World  finery  they  had  brought  to  America.  There 
were  many  incongruous  combinations  of  Slovak  necker 
chiefs  and  shirtwaists  which  originated  on  Broadway; 
short,  broad  flowing  skirts  and  high  heeled  American 
shoes;  the  men  took  out  of  the  depths  of  their  trunks 
their  sheepskin  coats,  which  they  wore  over  their  creased 
trousers,  and  stiff  collars  and  American  shirts.  One 
young  man  who  had  saved  his  little  round  rimmed  hat, 
wore  it  with  its  big  peacock  feather,  and  a  sprig  of 
dried  rosemary  clinging  to  the  colored  cord.  When  John 
Hruby  saw  that,  Sonya's  last  words  came  so  vividly  to 
him,  that  all  his  self-control  was  broken  down  and  he 
sobbed  like  a  child. 

The  stolid  Slovak  men  and  women  wept  all  through 
the  service,  and  while  they  wept  for  Sonya  and  the  baby, 
they  were  weeping  also  for  that  which  was  perishing  in 
their  own  hearts,  which  was  conceived  in  a  holy  passion, 


SONYA  GOES  HOME  303 

of  which  they  became  conscious  through  making  common 
cause  with  those  among  whom  they  had  lived  heretofore 
as  strangers.  Yet  these,  among  whom  they  lived  and 
labored,  had  bruised  and  hurt  them  by  their  suspicions 
and  the  demand  that  this  something  be  born  before  its 
time. 

"  It  is  the  same  as  in  Hungary,"  they  said  as  they 
passed  through  Main  Street  toward  the  cemetery,  carry 
ing  the  bodies  of  the  mother  and  child,  the  unfeeling 
crowd  staring  at  them  half  menacingly  because  they  wore 
"  outlandish  clothes  "  in  honor  of  their  Panenka  Fararka 
who  loved  tulips  and  rosemary,  and  had  not  been  weaned 
from  the  soil  on  which  they  grew  more  beautifully  and 
fragrantly  than  elsewhere. 

Into  the  frozen  ground  they  laid  Sonya's  body,  and  as 
the  heavy  unyielding  clods  fell  upon  the  casket,  they  also 
fell  upon  that  which  had  died  in  the  simple  hearts  of  the 
Slovaks,  who  buried  something  besides  the  body  of  their 
Panenka  Fararka  and  her  child,  born  out  of  due  time. 

Steve  Burly  had  an  editorial  the  next  day,  taking  the 
funeral  as  an  illustration  of  "  the  un- Americanized  for 
eigners,  who  flaunted  their  Old  World  fineries  before 
the  faces  of  loyal  Americans  and  carried  their  dead  to 
the  cemetery,  instead  of  having  them  conveyed  in  an 
American  hearse." 

He  demanded  immediate  Americanization,  "  with  a 
club  if  necessary,"  and  all  the  petty  newspapers  of  the 
State,  taking  their  cue  from  Steve  Burly,  as  usual,  en 
larged  upon  the  subject,  and  warned  America  against  the 
stranger  within  her  gates. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-ONE:  THE  ARMISTICE 

GRIEF  almost  ceased  to  be  personal  in  such  a  year  as 
the  one  in  which  Sonya  went  home.  Those  who 
were  sorest  stricken  had  the  comfort  that  theirs  was  the 
common  lot ;  for  sorrow  like  the  night  had  flung  her  dark 
mantle  over  the  whole  earth,  and  in  many  portions  of  it 
there  had  been  no  hopeful  sunrise  for  four  long,  bitter 
^ears. 

It  was  his  peoples'  unrelieved  agony  which  kept  John 
Hruby  at  his  post,  though  Coalton  had  become  unbear 
able  to  him.  He  avoided  Main  Street  as  if  its  air  were 
pestilential,  and  Annenka  grew  more  and  more  domineer 
ing  as  he  put  upon  her  the  small,  down  town  duties 
which  he  had  usually  performed  so  gladly,  because  they 
brought  him  in  contact  with  the  Americans.  What  he 
lacked  in  capacity  to  hate  she  made  up  in  double  measure, 
and  when  she  passed  Steve  Burly's  newspaper  office  she 
spat  in  that  direction;  for  she  hated  him  more  than  she 
hated  her  arch  enemies,  dirt  and  the  devil. 

No  news  from  the  homeland  had  crossed  the  trenches, 
and  the  Slovak  "  patch  "  added  daily  its  quota  of  service 
stars,  whose  blue  brightened  into  gold  with  every  setting 
of  the  sun.  The  women  dropped  their  shawled  heads 
into  their  toil  worn  hands,  their  eyes  heavy  from  tears, 
and  their  pastor  spoke  words  of  comfort  to  them  like  one 
who  himself  was  "a  man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted 
with  grief." 

The  men  who  remained  in  mill  and  mine,  grumbled 
often  and  went  reluctantly  to  their  task,  for  the  feeling 
against  them  increased,  and  he  had  to  cheer  their  hearts 
and  steady  their  faltering  hands. 

304 


THE  ARMISTICE  305 

"  War  makes  people  blind/'  he  said  to  them,  "  but  some 
day  the  Americans  will  recognize  the  part  you  have 
played  in  making  this  nation  move  as  with  one  will,  and 
strike  as  with  one  arm." 

He  dared  not  say  anything  openly  in  praise  of  his 
people,  for  Steve  Burly  had  struck  the  nativistic  note  so 
effectively  that  everything  was  treason  which  did  not 
increase  suspicion  against  the  foreign  born,  and  did  not 
add  fuel  to  the  flame  of  hate. 

In  Coalton  and  a  thousand  other  places  like  it,  the 
people  did  not  wish  to  be  reminded  of  the  loyalty  and 
bravery  of  the  aliens;  though  each  day  as  they  read  with 
solemn  fear  the  casualty  lists,  they  stumbled  over  un 
pronounceable  names. 

Wayne  MacBlane,  one  of  the  few  Americans  who  had 
remained  true  to  the  type,  and  who  had  preached  un 
falteringly  the  gospel  of  fair  play,  printed  a  com 
posite  picture  of  four  of  Coalton's  soldiers  who  had  died 
at  the  front  after  having  been  cited  for  special  bravery, 
and  he  named  the  immortal  hero,  "  Giovanni  Mac  Brown- 
sky/' 

John  Hruby  carried  more  than  his  share  of  anxiety  in 
those  dark  days  of  the  spring  of  1918,  when  the  German 
arms  prevailed  against  the  Allies,  and  the  English  army 
fought  with  its  back  against  the  wall.  To  him  their 
defeat  meant  not  only  the  defeat  of  the  Allies,  but  that 
the  condition  of  his  people  in  Hungary  would  become 
unbearable,  and  their  enslavement  complete. 

There  was  a  rift  in  the  clouds,  however,  and  it  came 
when  Professor  Masaryk  visited  this  country  and  stopped 
at  Coalton  to  address  the  Czecho-Slovaks,  who  acclaimed 
him:  "President  of  the  New  Republic."  Even  Steve 
Burly,  when  he  looked  into  that  strong  and  noble  face, 
had  to  admit  that  "  there  are  some  foreigners  who  are 
as  good  as  the  Americans  "  and  that  the  Czecho-Slovaks 


306      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

were  doing  their  share  in  making  the  arms  of  the  Allies 
prevail. 

Of  all  the  days  through  which  this  generation  has  lived, 
one  of  them  will  ever  remain  the  day  of  days,  the  one 
whose  joy  will  not  abate  and  whose  glory  will  never 
fade. 

The  tension  broke  when  the  rumor  of  the  signing  of  the 
armistice  reached  this  country.  The  delirium  of  joy  was 
suspended  when  the  rumor  proved  premature,  and  broke 
out  anew  in  the  early  hours  of  the  eleventh  day  of 
November. 

No  dawn  was  ever  greeted  as  was  this  one,  which  was 
to  herald  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  mankind.  On 
wireless  waves  the  angel's  message  was  carried,  as  it  was 
two  thousand  years  ago;  but  the  slumbering  shepherds 
had  no  sirens  or  church  bells  with  which  to  waken  the 
rest  of  mankind  to  their  unutterable  joy. 

Annenka  was  wakened  by  the  tumult  of  the  mills 
which,  with  their  giant  lungs,  blew  the  glad  alarm;  the 
mines  answered  in  short,  sharp,  asthmatic  blasts;  the 
electric  light  plant  and  the  waterworks  used  their  power 
to  announce  the  new  illuminant  and  the  new  refreshment 
for  humanity,  and  grim  Annenka,  hastily  clad,  ran  out 
and  gave  the  church  bells  their  first  chance  under  the 
new  order  to  glorify  God  in  the  highest. 

When  the  other  bells  faltered  and  the  whistles  grew 
faint  she  kept  on  tugging  the  bell  rope  like  one  possessed 
by  madness;  and  when  duty  finally  demanded  that  she 
return  to  her  kitchen,  she  ran  out  again  after  she  had 
made  the  coffee,  to  let  Coalton  know  how  the  Slovaks  felt 
about  it;  and,  for  once,  she  was  not  angry  when  on 
returning  she  found  that  the  milk  had  boiled  over  and 
dimmed  the  luster  of  her  highly  polished  stove. 

Frantic  noises  reached  the  little  parsonage  from  Main 
Street,  the  band  was  playing  one  mad  tune  after  another, 


THE  ARMISTICE  307 

people  were  moving  about  heedless  of  their  direction, 
and  embraced  one  another  for  the  sheer  mad  joy 
of  it. 

John  Hruby  had  gone  to  Wayne  MacBlane's  office,  and 
there  that  vehicle  of  human  joys  and  sorrows  sat  un 
perturbed  at  his  typewriter  filling  the  yellow  sheets  as  if 
he  were  a  copperwire  chosen  to  convey  the  mighty  energy 
because  least  influenced  by  it. 

The  mill  men  had  left  their  boiling,  bubbling  furnaces. 
What  did  they  care  for  ingots  and  tubes  and  cauldrons 
when  the  sword  of  the  mighty  was  broken,  and  the  War 
King  had  been  hurled  from  his  throne  ? 

The  miners  crawled  out  of  the  womb  of  the  earth  and 
the  next  shift  did  not  return  to  help  change  the  night 
into  day,  now  that  the  new  day  had  dawned;  the  clerks 
and  stenographers  and  all  the  little  cogs  in  the  man  made 
machine  stopped,  feeling  too  ennobled  to  do  their  meas 
uring  and  weighing  of  small  wares  and  writing  letters 
for  "  Yours  Truly." 

School-teachers  and  their  pupils  forsook  their  geogra 
phies  and  histories  now  that  they  were  made  obsolete  by 
the  power  of  arms;  every  one  was  too  drunk  from  joy 
to  labor — every  one  but  the  newspaper  men,  who  had  to 
sit  at  their  typewriters,  like  Wayne  MacBlane,  as  if  this 
were  only  another  fleeting  day  with  its  empty  columns  of 
white  paper  hungry  to  be  filled. 

He  had  already  interviewed  many  of  the  prominent 
men  of  Greater  Coalton  as  to  what  they  thought  of  the 
armistice  and  its  effect  upon  the  world,  especially  on 
Greater  Coalton;  for  Coalton  was  slipping  back  out  of 
the  embrasure  of  the  world  to  the  consideration  of  its 
own  commercial  future.  .He  knew  well  enough  that  it 
did  not  matter  what  the  great  men  of  Greater  Coalton 
thought  about  the  armistice;  but  it  was  a  feature,  and 
that  evening  when  the  hysteria  of  joy  had  spent  itself, 


308      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

the  bankers  and  merchants  and  ministers  would  congratu 
late  themselves  upon  seeing  their  names  in  the  paper 
under  a  few  inches  of  the  expression  of  their  vision  and 
wisdom.  Wayne  MacBlane  chuckled  as  he  transcribed 
these  "gems  of  thought,"  and  he  read  some  of 'them  to 
his  welcome  visitor. 

The  president  of  the  Iron  and  Fuel  Company  said : 
"  Now  that  the  world  has  been  made  '  a  decent  place  to 
live  in,'  it  means  a  better  relationship  between  Capital  and 
Labor." 

"  I  bet  you  a  box  of  cigars,"  Wayne  MacBlane  said,  as 
he  threw  down  the  sheet  of  paper,  "  that  while  he  was 
saying  that  he  was  planning  how  to  reduce  wages  and 
break  up  the  Unions." 

The  banker  thought  "  it  meant  greater  thrift  and  there 
fore  more  prosperity." 

"  The  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey  declaimed  to  me  in 
his  best  pulpit  style  that  *  it  was  a  victory  of  truth  over 
error  and  of  the  principles  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus  over 
materialism  and  that  we  must  now  guard  against  an  easy 
peace  for  the  Huns.' ' 

"  Now  I  shall  interview  you.  What  do  you  say,  Rev 
erend  Rooby?"  and  he  turned  to  his  typewriter  ready 
for  the  answer. 

In  his  slow  measured  way  John  Hruby  replied :  "  I 
thank  God  for  the  armistice,  for  now  we  shall  again  be 
able  to  tell  the  truth." 

Wayne  MacBlane  whirled  round  in  his  swivel  chair  and 
replied,  "  Not  yet,  my  dear  fellow,  not  for  a  long  time 
yet.  You  forget  that  there  are  the  Bolsheviki."  He 
was  right.  One  dark  cloud  had  passed  but  another  was 
on  the  horizon  ready  to  obscure  vision  and  seal  the  lips 
of  truth. 

Steve  Burly's  leading  editorial  that  day  had  the  new 
venom.  He  declared  Wayne  MacBlane  a  Bolshevik.  The 


THE  ARMISTICE  309 

armistice  came  too  soon  to  spend  all  the  stock  of  hate, 
and  now  "  Pro-German,"  which  was  the  pet  title  applied 
to  every  one  who  differed  from  him,  had  a  worthy  suc 
cessor  :  "  Bolshevik."  A  new  label  with  which  to  libel 
his  enemies. 

The  Reverend  Arthur  Ramsey  and  all  the  other 
preachers  who  had  supplied  verbal  ammunition  to  help 
win  the  war,  and  who  talked  about  the  new  world  to  be 
born  out  of  the  agony  of  mankind,  woke  to  the  fact  that 
there  was  no  new  world,  no  joyous,  new  born  world,  but 
an  older,  more  wrinkled,  disillusioned  planet,  and  that 
they  had  to  go  back  to  their  former  and  often  futile  en 
deavor  to  preach  the  "  Kingdom  of  God  and  His 
righteousness."  However,  they  could  still  use  their  old 
invectives  and  hurl  them  against  the  Bolsheviki  who, 
in  their  imagination,  lurked  around  every  corner  and 
needed  to  be  dealt  with  summarily. 

If  the  lot  of  John  Hruby's  people  was  hard  during  the 
war,  it  grew  harder  after  the  victory  was  assured ;  for  the 
supposed  menace  to  America  increased  in  ratio  to  his 
people's  ignorance  of  English;  and  the  patriotic  knitters 
and  four  minute  men  and  vigilant  saviors  of  their  coun 
try  threw  themselves  with  vigor  upon  the  enemy  within 
their  gates  who  were  ignorant  of  the  Constitution,  did 
not  know  the  names  of  their  congressman  and  had  never 
heard  of  the  Monroe  Doctrine. 

"  Teach  the  foreigner  English  and  you  cure  the  evil  of 
Bolshevism!"  was  Steve  Burly's  prescription.  "If  he 
can't  learn  the  American  language  send  him  back." 
Every  foreigner  was  an  embryo  Bolshevik,  and  vision 
became  more  obscured  and  truth  was  still  hidden  in 
propaganda ;  while  the  foreigner,  who  was  once  declared 
unfit  for  America  because  he  lowered  the  standard  of 
living,  was  now  declared  undesirable  because  he  joined  the 
Unions  and  claimed  that  the  Slovak  "  patch  "  was  a  part 


310      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

of  the  world  and  should  also  be  made  "  a  decent  place  to 
live  in." 

"America  ne  Dobra"  (not  good),  the  Slovaks  com 
plained,  and  it  took  all  John  Hruby's  faith  to  make  them 
believe  that  America  is  good,  even  if  it  is  not  always 
"  fine,"  and  that  sanity  would  return  with  the  final  dec 
laration  of  peace.  His  own  faith  had  wavered,  but  he 
had  not  lost  it;  he  still  believed  that  America  would  be 
the  salvation  of  the  world,  though  he  doubted  its  im- 
mediateness  and  his  own  share  in  the  deliverance. 

Now  that  the  grief  of  the  universe  was  slowly  being 
assuaged,  he  came  back  more  often  to  his  own  sorrow 
and  his  mind  leaped  daily  over  the  still  closed  barriers 
to  Hraszova,  to  his  mother  and  father,  and  often,  too 
often,  to  Christina. 

He  knew  that,  though  the  patch  of  earth  which  he  loved 
was  a  part  of  the  New  Republic,  he  could  not  go  back 
there  to  live ;  he  was  too  much  an  American.  He  realized 
that,  soon  after  he  returned  there  with  his  diploma,  hop 
ing  to  save  Hraszova  by  his  preaching.  He  was  a 
changed  man,  "  for  better,  for  worse  "  an  American,  and 
the  seven  years  of  living  here  sharing  in  the  national  life 
at  its  intensest  point  during  the  war  had  made  that  change 
permanent  and  complete  in  spite  of  the  persecutions  to 
which  he  had  been  subjected. 

There  was  something  in  his  heart  which  he  did  not 
want  to  admit  to  himself  for  he  was  ashamed  of  it  for 
Sonya's  sake.  The  thought  of  it  blurred  the  memory  of 
the  few  happy  years  he  had  lived  with  her.  He  still  loved 
Christina,  and  while  it  was  a  love  grown  purer,  it  was 
the  more  insistent.  Perhaps  he  was  but  lonely  he  said 
to  himself  when  the  spell  of  Christina  was  upon  him; 
perhaps  it  was  the  almost  intolerable  dominance  of 
Annenka,  who  had  not  sweetened  with  the  year  of  her 
restored  authority  over  his  household,  or  it  may  have 


THE  ARMISTICE  311 

been  the  thought  of  little  Christina  growing  up  without 
a  mother;  perhaps,  and  then  his  heart  would  not  follow 
his  mind,  and  he  covered  his  eyes  as  if  ashamed  to  see 
himself  a  man  who  yearned  for  a  mate. 

He  had  written  a  letter  to  mail  to  Christina  as  soon 
as  the  broken  world  was  knitted  together  again.  He  had 
rewritten  it  every  day  and  he  was  only  waiting  for  Hras- 
zova  to  come  within  the  zone  of  the  restored  world  that 
he  might  send  it. 

One  afternoon  his  friends  Wayne  MacBlane  and  Pro 
fessor  Niederstadt  were  in  his  study.  They  were  trying 
as  usual  to  settle  the  affairs  of  the  unsettled  universe  and 
talked  about  the  League  of  Nations  and  disrupted 
Europe's  need  of  it;  of  the  peace  terms,  which  they 
agreed  were  just  but  not  generous,  or  calculated  to  de 
crease  the  world's  stock  of  hate,  and,  last  but  not  least,  of 
the  Bolsheviki,  and  of  what  the  new  experiment  would 
mean  to  the  world. 

Wayne  MacBlane  was  a  radical  by  nature  and  to  him 
every  change  meant  progress.  Like  many  young  Ameri 
cans  he  despaired  of  his  country.  "  America  has  made  no 
progress  in  democracy,"  he  declared,  "  since  the  war  of 
the  revolution.  Europe  had  its  1848  while  the  United 
States  had  its'49,  when  the  chance  to  chase  for  gold  was 
still  equivalent  to  freedom,  although  even  that  chance  had 
been  reduced  to  a  minimum." 

Professor  Niederstadt  was  anti-Bolshevik,  and  though 
he  sympathized  with  the  revolutionists,  their  program  was 
to  him  impossible  and  the  means  of  carrying  it  out  im 
moral. 

John  Hruby,  who  knew  the  Slavs,  believed  in  the 
religiousness  of  the  Russian  spirit  and  rested  his  faith 
upon  the  peasants  of  Russia  who  are  natively  Christian 
and  might  evolve  a  new  world  order. 

It  was  a  long  debate  and  they  were  happy  because  they 


312      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

could  talk  to  each  other  freely  and  unburden  their  hearts, 
and  the  circle,  in  which  one  could  do  that,  had  not  wid 
ened  perceptibly. 

In  the  midst  of  their  discussion  Annenka  appeared  with 
a  very  thick  letter,  and  her  hand  trembled  as  she  held  it, 
for  she  had  seen  by  the  foreign  stamps  that  it  was  from 
the  Old  Country,  and  to  her  it  was  like  the  olive  branch  to 
Noah,  a  sign  that  the  flood  had  abated  and  that  there  was 
dry  land. 

To  John  Hruby  it  meant  more,  for  he  recognized  the 
writing,  and  he  tore  open  the  envelope  in  haste,  excusing 
himself  while  he  read.  Page  after  page  fell  from  his 
hand,  his  eyes  grew  moist  and  once  he  rested  his  head  on 
the  table  and  sighed  deeply.  The  two  friends  made  ready 
to  go  that  he  might  be  alone  with  his  grief  or  joy  or 
whatever  it  was  which  had  broken  through  the  years  of 
silence.  He  asked  them  if  they  would  object  to  his  read 
ing  the  letter  to  them,  and  they  were  as  eager  as  he  had 
been  to  hear  the  first  tidings  from  the  unlocked  doors  of 
central  Europe.  Professor  Niederstadt  picked  up  the 
fallen  sheets  and  put  them  into  their  proper  order,  Wayne 
MacBlane  lighted  another  cigar,  and  then  John  Hruby 
translated  to  them  Christina's  letter. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-TWO:  SANCTUS    SPIRITUS 
AND  COMPANY 

"  Hraszova,  Hungary, 

"  December  24,  1918. 
Y  dearly  beloved  Sister  and  Brother, 

"  I  am  writing  this  letter  not  knowing  when  or 
where  or  how  it  will  reach  you,  for  while  the  war  is  over, 
there  is  as  yet  no  order,  and  I  shall  send  it  by  Attorney 
Finor,  who  goes  to  Prague  as  a  member  of  the  new  gov 
ernment.  From  there  may  it  find  its  way  to  you  as 
God  wills. 

"  I  have  been  giving  daily  thanks  that  you  are  both 
safely  away  in  America  where  the  world's  sorrow  may 
have  reached  you  as  the  waves  of  the  stormy  ocean  sweep 
against  the  safe  shore.  We  have  been  in  the  midst  of 
the  tempest  and  it  is  as  if  by  a  miracle  that  we  survived 
it,  although  there  are  many  who  have  gone  down  whom 
we  have  envied,  as  they  went  to  their  peaceful  home. 
Death  has  no  terror  for  any  one,  but  for  the  children  who 
do  not  know  that  the  day's  life,  as  God  had  ordered  it, 
was  meant  to  be  full  of  joy  and  not  filled  with  an  agony 
which  would  break  their  little  hearts  if  they  knew  the 
difference. 

"  Even,  as  it  is,  the  children  play,  but  like  old  men  and 
women,  for  they  have  no  such  energy  as  we  had  when 
we  were  young.  Many  of  them  do  not  know  that  they 
are  entitled  to  two  parents,  and  they  believe,  as  never  be 
fore,  that  the  stork  brought  them  and  that  he  brought 
them  by  the  dozen  to  orphan  asylums  or  to  lone  women 
like  myself;  for  I  am  now  the  mother  of  eighteen  little 

313 


314      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

ones  whose  fathers  were  killed  or  have  been  lost  in  the 
great  desert  which  the  war  has  made  out  of  our  beauti 
ful  and  verdant  world,  and  whose  mothers  have  perished 
of  hunger,  or  the  anguish  of  childbirth,  in  so  uselessly 
renewing  life. 

"  Dearest  Sonya,  what  a  happy  mother  you  must  be, 
for  you  surely  have  children,  and  how  thankful  you  ought 
to  be  that  your  children  were  born  in  America.  Our  eyes 
have  been  turned  toward  your  happy  country  all  these 
years  and  we  have  expected  from  there  our  deliverance 
from  the  war  and  from  the  famine  which  is  now  worse 
than  the  war. 

"  How  proud  you  must  be  of  your  President  whose 
name  is  upon  our  lips  daily,  as  we  pray  to  God  to  bring 
this  unhappy  time  to  an  end.  Do  you  remember,  Yanek, 
how  you  talked  about  America  when  you  were  here  ?  It 
seems  now  as  if  it  were  a  hundred  years  ago.  I  scarcely 
believed  you  when  you  said  its  people  were  so  generous 
and  so  unselfishly  kind,  but  now  that  we  have  heard  the 
voice  of  America  speaking  to  us,  I  know  that  you  were 
right  in  saying  that  it  is  the  Promised  Land,  and  that  the 
Kingdom  of  God  came  there  before  it  reached  the  rest 
of  the  world. 

"  Poor  Babushka  does  not  have  to  wait,  she  has  gone 
to  her  reward  and  sees  her  dear  Jeshzitshek  face  to  face. 
She  shared  all  she  had  with  the  poor,  and  she  had  a  pain 
less  death!  She  just  faded  away  from  weakness  and  she 
had  no  complaint  upon  her  lips,  and  in  her  eyes  was  a 
heavenly  light. 

The  blessed  old  Starychek  died  in  prison.  He  preached 
against  the  war  and  they  put  him  away.  However,  they 
did  not  silence  him.  He  converted  his  jailer  and  the  old 
soldiers  who  guarded  the  prison,  and  '  though  he  is  dead 
he  yet  speaketh.' 

"  Thank  God,  Dr.  Makutchky  is  still  alive,  though  how 


SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY      315 

he  survived  I  do  not  know,  for  he  worked  day  and  night 
with  a  self  forgetful  devotion,  for  which  God  will  re 
ward  him.  He  did  the  work  of  ten  men,  having  charge 
of  the  hospital  which  was  made  out  of  the  brewery.  I 
wish  dear  old  Moritz  Redlich  might  have  been  alive  to 
see  that  place  put  to  such  good  use. 

"  I  gave  our  house  for  the  orphanage  and  I  am  living 
with  Mother  Elzabetha.  I  should  have  told  you  about 
your  parents  the  first  thing,  dear  brother,  but  my  heart 
is  so  full  and  I  am  writing  hardly  knowing  where  to 
begin.  Your  dear  mother  is  well  and  a  great  comfort  to 
me.  We  are  sleeping  together  on  the  bake  oven  and  we 
often  talk  about  you.  She  says,  '  My  Yanek  would  not 
complain  now  of  too  many  feather  beds,'  for  she  gave 
them  all  to  the  hospital,  and  the  dear  soul  misses  nothing 
so  much  as  her  feather  beds.  Now,  dear  Yanek,  I  have 
some  very  sad  news  to  tell  you  and  what  could  you 
expect  but  sad  news  ?  Your  dear  father  died  an  honor 
able  death.  He  volunteered  for  the  transportation  corps 
and  was  driving  our  horses  when  a  piece  of  shrapnel 
struck  him,  killing  him  instantly.  He  was  well  prepared 
for  death  for  he  trusted  in  the  mercy  of  God,  and  is  there 
anything  else  in  which  we  can  put  our  trust  ? 

:<  Your  sister  Katchka's  husband  is  among  the  miss 
ing,  but  we  hope  he  may  return  from  Russia  where  so 
many  of  our  boys  are  languishing.  I  ought  to  stop  this 
letter  right  here,  for  all  the  news  I  have  to  tell  you  is 
bad  news.  There  is  not  a  house  in  Hraszova  in  which 
there  is  anything  but  sorrow,  and  not  one  of  us  has  been 
spared  from  war,  famine  and  pestilence. 

"  However,  we  had  worse  things  than  these  to  contend 
with.  In  the  beginning  of  the  war,  as  you  know,  dear 
Sonya,  the  officials  flattered  us  and  told  our  boys  that  the 
king  relied  upon  their  bravery  to  save  his  kingdom,  and 
there  were  speeches  and  wreaths  of  flowers  and  the  men 


316      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

received  food  when  we  had  little  or  none.  But  when  our 
soldiers  came  back  from  Serbia  and  were  sent  to  the  Rus 
sian  front,  they  heard  from  their  Czech  brothers  that  they 
were  fighting  to  make  the  Germans  and  the  Magyars 
masters  of  the  whole  world,  and  that  they  were  shedding 
the  blood  of  their  own  kin;  so  they  laid  down  their  arms 
and  were  taken  prisoners,  though  many  of  them  died 
heroically  in  battle. 

"  Afterwards  \vhen  the  news  came  back  to  Hraszova 
we  were  met  everywhere  with  derision  and  were  called 
traitors  and  the  food  rations  became  smaller  and  our 
cellars  and  granaries  were  raided  and  all  the  food  taken 
to  Budapest,  so  that  we  were  in  danger  of  starvation. 

"  I  went  to  the  capital  and  made  a  remonstrance.  I 
was  a  lone  weak  woman,  but  God  gave  me  strength  and 
the  stony  heart  of  Pharaoh  was  softened,  and  I  was  ap 
pointed  local  food  commissioner.  I  felt  like  Joseph  in 
Egypt,  and  God  gave  me  the  grace  to  save  my  people. 
You  ought  to  be  on  your  knees  daily,  dear  brother  and 
sister,  that  you  are  living  in  a  country  where  you  are  not 
persecuted  because  of  your  race  or  speech.  Sometimes, 
when  I  was  very  weak,  I  envied  you.  May  God  forgive 
me!  It  was  not  often,  for  I  rejoice  that  you  are  safe  in 
each  other's  love  and  safe  in  that  blessed  America. 

"Of  course  you  know  that  we  no  longer  belong  to 
Hungary  and  that  we  are  rid  of  our  masters.  I  have  no 
Shadenfreude  as  the  Germans  call  it,  but  it  was  like  the 
day  of  judgment  when  the  Czechs  came  into  Hraszova 
and  the  Magyar  officials  were  sent  beyond  the  new  border. 
Many  of  them  denied  their  nationality  and  begged  to 
remain,  for  the  conditions  there  are  worse  than  here.  At 
least  we  have  some  order,  over  there  they  have  anarchy, 
and  no  one  feels  safe,  even  of  his  life. 

"  I  went  out  to  the  cemetery  and  told  my  dear  school- 


SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY      317 

master  all  about  it,  though  I  think  he  knows.     I  wonder 
if  our  beloved  dead  can  be  happy  over  anything? 

"  Dr.  Makutchky  is  not  elated  over  the  situation.  He 
thinks  we  have  only  changed  masters,  although  thus  far 
the  Czechs  have  been  kind  to  us.  They  have  nothing  to 
give  us  but  good  will,  but  even  that  is  a  godsend  at  a 
time  like  this. 

"  However,  the  joy  of  being  a  free  people  was  short 
lived,  for  the  famine  is  worse  than  ever,  and  I  have  a  hard 
time  making  the  little  we  have  go  all  around.  Human 
nature  is  a  frail  and  sometimes  a  brutal  thing  and  honest 
people  have  turned  into  thieves,  and  there  are  more 
murders  in  a  month  than  we  knew  of  in  our  whole  lives. 
No  one  knows  the  truth,  no  one  trusts  another,  and  I  have 
been  called  cruel.  Twice  I  have  been  stoned  because  I 
tried  to  be  fair  and  deal  out  to  all  alike  the  little  we  have. 
It  seems  strange  that  those  who  were  poor  and  whom 
we  called  wicked  have  been  the  most  honest,  and  the  good 
people  have  been  the  worst.  I  think  I  can  understand  it, 
they  were  good  because  they  were  prosperous.  Don't 
think  that  I  have  lost  my  faith  in  goodness  and  truth  and 
love,  though  there  is  but  little  left  of  all  the  good  things 
for  which  the  human  race  has  striven  so  long ;  yet  I  have 
been  richly  blessed  and  I  must  not  complain. 

"  I  am  waiting  for  news  from  you  every  day.  How 
long  it  seems,  dearest  Sonya,  since  you  left  us,  and 
Yanek,  too,  we  miss;  but  you  will  surely  come  to  us 
when  the  world  has  stopped  reeling  and  we  know  the 
straight  road  again. 

'  Tell  me  all  about  your  dear  selves  and  about  the 
children.  How  old  are  they  and  what  have  you  named 
them?  Mother  Elzabetha  says  you  must  have  two  chil 
dren,  a  boy  and  a  girl.  We  believe  what  we  want,  do  we 
not?  How  happy  she  would  be  to  see  you  and  your 


318      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

children.  She  wants  me  to  tell  you  that  she  has  not 
ceased  praying  for  you  and  is  daily  sending  her  good 
wishes  across  the  sea.  The  dear,  sweet  soul !  She  is  a 
saint,  and  God  will  reward  her. 

"  I  ought  to  close  this  letter,  but  I  know  there  are  more 
things  you  want  to  know  about  us,  just  as  we  want  to 
know  about  every  detail  of  your  lives. 

Father  Anton  Kalman  passed  away  only  a  few  months 
ago.  He  came  down  from  Boor  and  took  charge  of  his 
own  beloved  flock  when  Father  Baczko  went  to  the  war. 
He  came  back  to  Hraszova  this  year,  but  the  people  drove 
him  out,  they  hated  him  so  and  spared  his  life  only  be 
cause  Father  Kalman  protected  him  and  sent  him  away 
in  the  night. 

"  Helena,  his  niece,  who  kept  house  for  him  in  Boor, 
came  back  with  him  and  she  has  been  a  very  angel  to  the 
people.  All  Father  Kalman's  goodness  seems  to  have 
come  to  her,  and  while  she  can  not  be  a  Father  of  The 
Church  she  has  been  both  father  and  mother  to  the  people. 
I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done  without  her.  She 
is  a  very  beautiful  woman,  and  people  kiss  her  hand  when 
they  pass  her  as  if  she  were  really  a  priest  or  a  holy  nun. 

"  Sophie  Redlich  inquired  after  you  both  whenever  she 
thought  we  might  have  heard  about  you  or  from  you.  She 
has  completely  recovered  and  bears  her  burden  and  the 
burdens  of  others  as  her  father  used  to.  Her  stepmother 
is  living  and  is  a  great  cross  to  her.  She  is  dissolute  and 
has  taken  to  drinking,  and  is  the  most  pitiable  sight  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  takes  grace  to  bear  with  her  and  Sophie  has 
that  grace,  though  she  is  not  a  Christian. 

"  She  has  worked  day  and  night,  for  she  has  charge  of 
the  Jewish  hospital,  and  besides  that  she  has  had  to  pro 
tect  the  Jews  as  best  she  could,  for  they  have  suffered 
more  than  we.  God  must  have  some  special  mission  for 
them  for  they  are  tried  as  if  by  fire,  and  the  fire  burns 


SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY      319 

hottest  for  them  in  this  terrible  time  when  hatreds  are  ten 
times  as  strong  as  in  times  of  peace.  We  are  often  to 
gether,  Helena,  Sophie  and  I,  and  we  talk  about  the  days 
when  our  dear  old  men  lived  together  like  brothers. 

"  The  past  seems  to  unite  us  three  old  maids.  The 
people  laugh  when  they  see  us  together,  and  now  they 
call  us  Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company,  and  we  hope  we 
may  be  worthy  of  that  holy  name. 

"  This  is  a  very  long  letter,  my  dear  ones,  and  I  must 
stop  for  it  is  time  for  me  to  put  my  little  orphans  to  bed. 
Let  me  hear  from  you  as  often  as  possible.  Do  not  think 
I  am  unhappy  in  my  own  life.  My  work  is  very  absorb 
ing,  and  I  thank  God  I  can  be  of  use  in  the  world. 

"  God  bless  you  both,  is  my  prayer. 

"  Lovingly  your  sister, 

"  CHRISTINA/' 

John  Hruby  had  to  stop  many  times,  for  he  was  over 
come  by  his  emotions,  and  his  friends  begged  him  not  to 
go  on  if  it  gave  him  pain,  but  he  read  nearly  to  the  end, 
omitting  only  the  very  last  of  the  letter. 

When  he  finished  reading  he  looked  up  with  a  happy 
smile  and  said :  "  Thank  God !  Sanctus  Spiritus  and 
Company  have  risen  from  the  dead." 

Wayne  MacBlane  wanted  to  know  just  who  or  what 
Sanctus  Spiritus  and  Company  were,  and  Professor 
Niederstadt  looked  at  him  eager  for  an  explanation. 
Then  he  told  them  the  story  of  the  three  old  men.  Of 
Father  Anton  Kalman,  Pan  Yan  Szenitzky  and  Moritz 
Redlich,  who  were  the  survivors  of  the  good  old  time 
when  men  of  different  races  and  faiths  could  live  to 
gether  like  brothers,  and  how  one  by  one  they  went  down 
under  the  new  nationalism,  which  claimed  not  only  them 
as  a  sacrifice,  but  drew  nearly  ten  million  more  men  into 
the  abyss,  and  almost  wrecked  the  world. 


320      SANCTUS  SPIRITUS  AND  COMPANY 

They  listened  to  the  long,  strange  story  and,  as  they 
separated,  they  knew  that  the  New  World,  for  which 
mankind  was  waiting,  could  not  come,  unless  everywhere 
men  of  good  will  walked  with  Sanctus  Spiritus  and 
Company. 


THE  END 


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Sanctus  Spiritus     83 
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